Et Cetera
by Chibi-Reaper
Summary: A place for me to put ideas that may or may not make it to full story status. If you can call some of the things I'm working on 'Full Stories', anyway. And one-shots now, too.
1. HP,Bleach,The perils of summoning magics

Dumbledore coughed lightly, bringing the meeting of the Order of the Phoenix to... well, order.

"Now, as you all know, the Dark Lord Voldemort-" He paused for a moment so that his voice wouldn't be drowned out by the unanimous loud gasp. "-has just recently been reborn through a ritual using the bones of his father, flesh of a servant, and the blood of Cedric Diggory, winner of the recent Triwizard tournament. I must admit, this has me troubled."

He cut off the murmurs that began with a wave of his hand, the very force of his personality demanding silence.

"The truth is... I cannot defeat him on my own. Nay, even with the entire order behind me, I can only fail. That is because... there is a prophecy."

Solemnly, he intoned the words. 'The one who- yadda yadda yadda'. At the end he sat down and began carefully stroking his beard.

"Dumbledore," came an anonymous voice. "Who is the prophecy about? Where can we find him?"

"Not is, I am afraid. Was."

All eyes swung to the Potters, who'd gone wide-eyed and pale at some point.

"H-Harry... so that's why..." Lily stuttered, then began pouring out tears. "He... He would have been in his fifth year..."

James' mouth worked open and closed, but no sound emerged. After a moment, a particularly tactless order member decided to speak up.

"Yeah, well, fat lot of good that does us. Unless I'm mistaken, we're fresh out of infant sacrifices."

James launched himself fists first at the loudmouth. Dumbledore casually popped a lemon candy and gave him a few minutes before breaking them up.

"Now, unless there are any more interruptions? I have a Plan."

The world seemed to tremble at the sound of the forbidden words. Naturally, not a one of the wizards noticed.

"In my studies I came across an ancient ritual, designed to summon entities from other dimensions. It was banned by the Ministry because of a certain incident when a half-trained apprentice modified it and summoned some sort of horrible monster, which rampaged throughout the town as it slowly strangled to death. It could not breath our air, you see. But I'm off track... this ritual seems to be just what we need. All we have to do is summon a Harry Potter from another world where Voldemort-" Ah, the shocked gasp Mk. II. "- has been defeated. Simple really."

There was no real discussion. Dumbledore knew best, after all.

xxx

In another time and another place, Harry frowned and rubbed at his ear. Then ducked under a screaming body that came flying through the hall.

"Tai-chou!" He yelled."You done goofing off with these guys yet? Your paperwork isn't going to just go away if you ignore it, you know."

Zaraki Kenpachi roared something at him that seemed to be equal parts threat and... well, more threat, really. Then he picked up another nearby shinigami and hurled him at him. Harry sidestepped the attack with a sigh, ignoring the squeals as the second man landed heavily on the first as he dropped one hand down to rest on the hilt of his Zanpakuto. He carefully weighed his options. If he attacked, then Kenpachi would undoubtedly mop the floor with him. He was a captain, after all, and Harry was only a few weeks out of the academy. On the other hand, if he didn't show that he was serious enough about dragging the Taicho away from his drinking to do at least a little of his paperwork to fight him over it, then he would _never_ do it.

Such was the lot of an Eleventh Squad shinigami.

Before he could actually steel himself to attack, though, he was distracted.

"Un!"

Kenpachi blinked as he knocked back another mug of some frothy liquid.

"Something wrong, runt?" He asked, not unkindly. For him, at least.

"Uh... Not sure, Taichou. For a moment there, it felt like someone grabbed onto my ear and- Un! There it was again! This isn't funny! If someone's there, then come out right.... Gah! Taichou, it has me by the ba-!"

With a sickening wet splurtchy sound, Harry disappeared. For a moment, Kenpachi could only stare. Then he got up from his seat and waved an arm through the spot Harry had formerly occupied. Nothing. He peered suspiciously into his mug before sitting back down and chugging the lot.

xxx

"-Alls!"

Harry blinked as he was suddenly not where he just was and was supposed to be, but wasn't. And then he wondered if that would sound as confusing if he said it aloud as it did in his mind.

"Ah, welcome my dear boy, welcome."

Instantly his zanpakuto left he sheath, razor edge coming to rest against the jugular of a man who, to be frank, he'd gladly never have met again.

"You."

xxx

"You."

Dumbledore had to admit, he hadn't exactly been expecting this sort of reaction from their brand new savior. The sheer hatred and venom that had been pumped into that single word was staggering. The sword began to dig just a little deeper into his neck, just enough to release a thin trickle of blood... Dumbledore's hand began to slowly creep toward his wand.

"You." The young man repeated, glaring at him with young Lily's eyes. "I don't know how you're still alive. In fact, I don't really care, because I intend to rectify that immediately."

"Now, now, my dear boy... there seems to be some sort of misunderstanding."

"Oh, there's no misunderstanding, _Albus Dumbledore_." He spat the name out like it was something vile. "Except perhaps to how you're here when I _know_ I sent your soul to the beyond myself."

Dumbledore frowned beneath his beard. This was beginning to look like it had been a bad idea.... well there went his perfect record.

"I'm sure we can talk about this like reasonable adults."

"You want talk? Fine. You arranged for my parents murder. You purposely left me in a home where you knew that I would be neglected, at best. When you finally did get around to taking me out of there, you trained me up as your personal attack dog. You arbitrarily labeled entire families, households, and clans as 'evil' for the most minor of reasons, and set me on them when it suited your political, powermongering needs. And when it suited your needs, you denied all knowledge of my existence and ordered me put to death 'for the safety of the people', even as you were carefully picking out your next pawn. Does any of this sound familiar, 'My Lord'?"

Dumbledore was now certain that this had been a bad idea.

"If you would allow me to explain, young man?"

"You can explain your crimes while you burn in _hell_. This time, I'll make _sure_ you're dead. I'll cremate your body and salt the ashes. I'll bury the urns in the most distant corners of the earth. I'll-"

"Stupefy!"

One of the stunned onlookers had managed to gather themselves enough to cast a spell. To his amusement, young Mr. Potter had been completely caught off guard, as though he hadn't noticed there was anyone else in the room. Hmm. Perhaps he hadn't, at that.... anger did tend to tunnel one's vision somewhat.

Lily lowered her wand to prod at the crumpled form as she stepped forward.

"Th.... _This_ is what my baby boy would grow up into? He... He's got tattoos, and piercings, and scars, and what is he _wearing_, and his _hair_...."

She seemed struck dumb until Dumbledore coughed to get her attention, even as he rubbed self-consciously at the bloodstains in his beard.

"If I may...? This is not neccessarily how young Harry would have turned out had he survived. After all, by his own words, he did grow up without parents, and it seems that in whatever universe he has come from, I am myself radically different from who I am here. If you follow me...?"

"Ah... I see. Parallel universe theory?"

Dumbledore nodded and, with a flick of his wand wrapped the other-dimensional Harry in ropes and bent down to retrieve the sword he'd dropped.

Before he reached it, the hilt began sparking and crackling with arcs of electricity. Dumbledore swiftly withdrew his hand and the phenomena ceased as suddenly as it had began.

Fascinating.

He flicked the gnarled wand again and the blade lifted slowly into the air, before sliding gently back into its sheath. Except that that wasn't where he had directed it at all.

"Curiouser and curiouser." He mumbled under his breath.

xxx

When Harry awoke he was seated next to a small coffee table. Tied to his chair, of course. Although...

"You have returned my zanpakuto."

It was a statement, not a question, and the eyes of the bearded man across from him twinkled. They stopped doing so when he easily snapped the cheap ropes binding him, stood up, and slammed his palms into the table.

"I don't know who you are, or why the hell you're wearing _his_ face, but I'll give you one opportunity to give me one good reason not to gut you where you stand. And don't think you'll catch me off guard a second time."

"Ah... I'm afraid we've gotten off on the wrong foot. Please, allow me to introduce myself." Harry reluctantly sat back down. "My name is Albus Dumbledore-"

At that, he looked very much like he wanted to jump back up and draw his blade again, so Dumbledre quickly continued.

"-However, I daresay that I am not the Albus Dumbledore that you are familiar with, my boy. I am Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I need your help."

After a few more moments of visibly fighting his emotions, Harry ground out a single word.

"Explain."

Dumbledore did. At the end of which Harry was even more visibly enraged.

"So... you dragged me here, out of my own dimension, on what seems to be some sort of deluded whim. I hate you. But send me home, now, and I won't kill you."

"Ah..." Dumbledore sighed regretfully. "I'm afraid I cannot do that."

Harry's zanpakuto cleared its sheath and he raised a hand in protest.

"I said cannot, not 'will not'. I'm afraid, however, that the only way for you to return is to complete the task set when you were summoned."

Harry grumbled but slowly eased his zanpakuto back into its sheath.

"So... what's the task, then?"

"Kill Voldemort."

"Great. Just one more question."

His eyes narrowed at the old man.

"Who or what the _hell_ is 'Voldemort'?"

xxx

A.N.

A oneshot Harry Potter/Bleach crossover thingy. Both are AU, to a greater or lesser degree. In Bleach Harry's world, there is no 'Wizarding world', and Dumbledore was a very corrupt politician type who turned Harry into something like a berserk psycho ninja. One Tom Riddle may or may not have been his immediate predeccessor. Haven't thought up a name for his Zanpakuto, but it has some sort of control over electricity, and he has achieved Shikai at least, but probably not Bankai at this point. He's in the eleventh squad, and for good reason, but gets along reasonably well with the beaurocracy and tries his best to keep the papers being pushed properly. He doesn't neccessarily _succeed_, but he tries his best.

Compared to that, the other is a pretty standard AU-switcheroo. Harry died, parents didn't, they may or may not have more kids now, etc. etc. etc.

Might be, once he finishes killing off moldy-voldy and gets back, he only manages to stick around long enough to get Kenpachi to do a couple sheets of paperwork before he gets summoned by another HP-verse. Maybe that happens enough that he gets some sort of a reputation for suddenly dissappearing for weeks at a time back in Soul Society, or enough that he snaps and just starts slaughtering everyone in the room he's summoned to before they have a chance to get an explanation out. Or maybe he goofs off and pretends to be someone else, or creatively rearranges his family tree. Who knows. There might be a full story in this little plot somewhere, but that remains to be seen.


	2. BtVS,InuYasha,Canis Daemonicus

There was an audible snap as he hit the ground and Xander whimpered. He wasn't harmed... well, scraped a little from the sudden unexpected meeting with the concrete walkway, but that wasn't what he was worried about.

No, it was the prop that he'd fallen on that concerned him. He carefully stood up, not daring yet to look, and when he did he wished he hadn't. The flimsy sheath of the plastic katana was bent, and as he picked it up there was a rattling from inside... the toy itself had broken.

Xander winced and tossed it in a nearby trash can with a sigh. Bad enough that he'd been conned into letting little Dawn-patrol pick his costume for this year, and that she'd chosen from her older sister's collection of comics... Bad enough that Snyder had 'volunteered' him to lead a troop of kids trick-or-treating rather than letting him crash, and subsequently be thrown out of, whatever Halloween parties he could find... Not enough that he'd actually managed to _lose_ that funky beaded necklace, the only other prop for the costume aside from the wig and fake ears thingy that was itching at his scalp right now, but now the damn sword was broken too.

He groaned mentally at the hit to his 'eventual road trip' funds as he turned back to that costume shop, only to discover when he arrived that Ethan's had closed early. A quick rush to Partytown, whose prices were steeper but was still open, found that they did have fake swords... just none of the kind that he needed. And none were close enough to the simple, albeit ancient looking, katana to pass muster.

He winced once again as he realized there were three options available to him. First, he could go without the sword and hope that Dawn didn't notice or he would face... The Pout! He shuddered silently. Second, he could go beg Giles to borrow a _real_ sword for the night... which, aside from being humiliating, wasn't going to be happening. Giles' weaponry left the library without his knowledge, in 'properly trained' hands, in the direst of emergencies, or not at all. Then there was the third option, and the one it looked like he was going to have to go with... hitting the local pawn shops and praying to get lucky.

In fact, he _was_ lucky, he reflected later. A little late, which Snyder was going to jump down his throat about, but lucky. He'd managed to find an actual katana in the third shop he'd visited... and not just that, but it was almost exactly what he needed. The threaded grip was old and loose, the scabbard was cracked and filthy, and the blade itself was extremely tarnished and chipped in dozens of places. In short, pretty much exactly like the blade that his costume had had.

The best thing was, it was such an obviously bad sword that nobody even looked at it twice, just one more tacky prop in a night of tacky props and weird costumes! And no matter how bad a sword it was, Xander had been forced to leave his stake behind, and so was glad of any available weapon, no matter that tonight was 'supposed' to be dead for the undead.

xxx

"... Chaos! I remain, as ever, thy faithful, degenerate servant..... Urk!"

Ethan collapsed to his knees, sweating heavily and fighting off the urge to pass out as the spell drew approximately two dozen times the amount of energy it should have. Rather than weakening him slightly, for no more than the moment it would take to replenish his reserves, he felt like he was about to die!

It was a good thing that he made a habit of preparing for unexpected eventualities, he reflected as he crawled quickly for a cupboard in the back room. The bottles inside held a tincture that was foul smelling, tasted even worse, and was extremely difficult and expensive to concoct, but kept for something around the time-span of 'forever' after it was actually brewed, and would rapidly restore one's magical reserves once imbibed. The drawback was that it was heavily addictive, and highly toxic if taken in too great a dose.

A few swallows was all Ethan needed, though, just enough to get him out of the danger zone so that he could fill the rest with the wild magic floating aimlessly about the Hellmouth. And idly wonder, as he waited, just what had changed at the last minute to cause the spell to go so wrong.

Not that long before this happened...

"What are you?" One of the gaggle of brats asked aloud. Xander spared a moment to glare at Snyder's retreating back before opening his mouth to answer, and being rudely interrupted.

"He's Inu-Yasha!" Dawn piped up, answering her classmates question without answering it at all. She waved happily. "Hi Xander... look, look at my costume, I'm Shippou!"

Xander nodded and opened his mouth again, to no real effect.

"I _wanted_ to go as Kagome, but mom wouldn't go for it. But you make a good Inu-Yasha, Xander!"

"Yeah, uh, thanks Dawn..."

Xander coughed into his fist and brought the attention of the kids back to him.

"Now, the important thing to remember when scamming candy is-"

"Harris! Why are you still here?" Snyder barked, prompting a snort of disgust. Xander didn't even bother answering, just scowled and stalked to the door, followed rapidly by the brats he was escorting.

They didn't make it so much as halfway to the first street on the list before something like an invisible tidal wave slammed into them. Xander staggered-

-And Inu-Yasha caught himself before he fell, wondering what the hell had just happened. After a quick rundown of where he was, which was somewhere he was sure he'd never been, but looked like Kagome's era, he made a quick check of his possessions. Tetsusaiga... the sword hummed with power as he set a hand to its familiar, cracked saya. Check. His clothes... yeah, they were the real deal woven fire-rat hair and hadn't been replaced with simple cloth. Check. All extremities... his ears were still there... yup, he was good to go... wait. Wasn't there something...?

His eyes widened as his hands snapped to where that accursed necklace _should_ have been draped about his neck. It... it was gone!

Tears of happiness gathered in the corners of his eyes.

That evil witch of a woman's cursed sealing necklace was finally gone! No longer would he have to bend to the schoolgirl's whims and fancies! No longer would he have to guard his tongue, lest some innocent comment that could be taken the wrong way slip, leading to his humiliation! No longer-

"Ah... AH.... AAAAH!" Shippou screamed from behind him, in slightly higher pitch than the brat's usual volume. "It, it, it's gone! Inuyasha, I've been robbed!"

Inu-yasha let loose a deep sigh of regret. Of course things couldn't go smoothly. He turned to adress Shippou... who was screaming his head off with his pants dropped around his ankles. Waaaait... Inuyasha frowned and squinted.

"Shippou... shut up and clothe yourself. You haven't lost anything, you're just female now."

Shippou took the revelation fairly well, blinking slowly before going white and passing out.

Inu-Yasha debated dragging the young Kitsune along with him for a few moments before he came to his senses and just stuffed the brat in a nearby trash can. There. Reasonably safe, and now Shippou wouldn't get in the way as he investigated the surroundings.

xxx

Okay, Inuyasha decided, he'd just mentally review what he'd learned in between sending inexplicably large swarms of baby demons wailing home to their mothers.

He was in a town named Sunnydale. That had been obvious by the 'Welcome to Sunnydale' sign at the edge of town. That really didn't explain anything, though, and most of the demons hadn't been talkative, so he'd swallowed his pride and hunted down a map. In the end, it had taken several maps and a 'World Atlas'.

Sunnydale was a township in 'California', which was a small portion of a 'United States of America', which was on the opposite side of a _freaking big ocean_ from Japan.

Also, he'd realized at some point that he was fluently reading a language he was completely unfamiliar with. Which was odd, because he'd only bothered to teach himself to read _japanese_ out of neccessity, so he doubted he'd just 'picked up' this other language anywhere.

No, this whole situation reeked of magic. And where there was magic, there was invariably a sorceror of some sort behind it.

Inuyasha drew Tetsusaiga, and it flashed as it shifted to its true form. It was time to pay a visit to the sorceror, and end whatever spell he'd cast, along with his life.

"Inuyaaashaaa!" Came a piercing wail from nearby, followed rapidly by a familiar looking trash can rolling and bouncing past on its side, followed rapidly by a small horde of child-demons, baying for blood. Inuyasha twitched, then quickly dashed after them.

Alright, new plan. First, rescue Shippou. Second, soundly berate him for needing to be rescued in the first place, ignoring his current gender status. _Then_ go hunt down and kill the sorceror.

xxx

A.N. YAHF oneshot, Buffy/Inuyasha cross. I'm just amused by this for some reason. No real plan or plot for anything beyond this at the moment, however.


	3. Naruto, Icy Maelstrom

The stars were pretty.

Broken, bleeding, and bruised as he was, that was the only thing he could think of as he stared at what sky was visible between the four corners of the dumpster he'd been hurled into.

Just how fucking pretty those twinkling spots of light were.

The five year old Naruto sighed and closed his eyes, wondering if this time he would finally die... or if he would once more wake up to find he'd been miraculously healed.

Again.

xxx

In another time and another place, a different boy looked down at his body, lying in peace next to his senseis as it began to snow.

"So... this is it, Zabuza-sama. I hope to see you once more, on the other side."

"Sorry kid... but the guys upstairs have different plans."

Before Haku could turn to see the speaker, the entire world around him whirled, sending him to his knees, and then to the floor.

xxx

Their eyes snapped open.

xxx

It wasn't really obvious that there had been a change in the boy. Actually, it was more along the lines that nobody cared. When the demon brat ran out of blinding orange jumpsuits, nobody cared that he switched to an equally stupid white kimono with a pink floral print. Nobody cared that he began growing his hair out. And nobody cared that as he grew, his facial features were shifting just slightly, just enough that at a casual glance, combined with the longer hair and feminine kimono, he could easily be mistaken for a girl.

Nobody cared, except the Hokage, and he simply came to the conclusion that it was an early demonstration of young Naruto's... orientation.

He was wrong.

The reason for all these changes was the extra voice in Naruto's head.

xxx

'Naruto-kun.'

"Ung..."

'Naruto-kun, it's time to wake up.'

"G-way... Tired..."

'If you don't get up, I suppose I could ask Bakemono-san to help. I'm sure he would find an amusing way to wake you.'

Naruto sat straight up in a cold sweat eyes wide open. He didn't know what the Bakemono was, as Haku had tried to describe it, but every time he tried his voice had broken off into gurgles for some reason, but he had heard it ranting in his mind the one time it had awakened. It wasn't much aside from '**KILL**, **DEATH**, and **GIVE ME BLOOD**', but it was enough to ensure that he wanted that thing to stay asleep as much as possible.

'No need for that, I'm awake now.'

'Good. Today is the test to decide who passes the academy, correct? You don't want to be late, especially after failing twice, am I right?'

'Yosh! This time I'll _definitely_ pass! What are the odds of them testing the _only_ jutsu I can't do three times in a row?'

xxx

'Heh... what were the odds of them testing on bunshin three times in a row.'

'Apparently... higher than we thought, Naruto-kun.'

Internally, Haku was in a quandary. Upon realizing that he was, in fact, stuck in Naruto's body, and had somehow been transported back in time, he had come to the conclusion that it would be best to change as little as possible until the right time.

Of course, he was somewhat handicapped in the fact that he actually knew very little of what had happened in Konoha. All he knew was what the Naruto he'd met had told him, which was that he'd lived just about a hard life as he had, and that he held a true monster within him. Add that to that he knew the team he was supposed to be on and that was it.

But this was a conundrum. Had his mere presence altered things so much? He'd been slightly worried when Naruto entered the academy two years early, but then he had failed twice, which had balanced out the apparent difference. But with him failing a third time, Haku was ready to panic. If Naruto wasn't on the same team, then he might not end up going to wave country, and Haku might not have a chance to save Zabuza-sama and himself.

Haku's fretting slowed to a halt as Naruto's other teacher, Mizuki, walked up and casually leaned against the tree next to the swing Naruto was sitting on. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke up.

"You know... you shouldn't be too upset with Iruka. He sees a lot of himself in you. You remind him of himself, and he wants what's best for you. That's why he's so hard on you... He feels you could do better if you worked harder at it, and he's worried about what could happen to you if you become a ninja before you're ready."

"... I know. It's just... I really wanted to pass this time."

Mizuki contemplated that for a moment, then sighed lightly as he decided something.

"Y'know... I could probably get in trouble for telling you this... but there's another way to pass."

"Really?" Naruto said, eyes wide, even as Haku came to full attention. This... seemed suspicious, but perhaps it was how Naruto had passed the first time anyway. He put his suspicions on hold as they both listened to Mizuki's explanation.

"All you have to do is..."

xxx

Haku was impressed with this test. Sneak into the Hokage's tower, steal a scroll, and learn one of the powerful techniques listed on it. He'd assumed that it had been Kakashi that had taught Naruto the Kage Bunshin the first time around, to take advantage of the boy's seemingly near endless chakra reserves and cover the weakness that not being able to perform a normal Bunshin left. It seemed he may have miscalculated.

Naruto did surprisingly well on his own, the only tense moment coming from when the Hokage himself had wandered through, and Haku had to direct him to hide before they were spotted. Aside from that, it had been smooth sailing.

That was why Haku was so suspicious. The whole thing reeked of trickery. Why was the Hokage the only person in the entire tower? In Mist, there had always been at least a dozen, and usually two dozen, guards of ANBU level on standby. Was it because Leaf was so much more peaceful than Mist? And the scroll itself... it wasn't being hidden, but it was stamped with a large 'Forbidden' mark. The whole thing reeked.... but Haku had no actual proof, and so he kept his thoughts to himself.

It wasn't long before they arrived at the spot indicated by Mizuki, and sure enough, the first technique on the scroll was Kage Bunshin. That, however, left Haku with an unpleasant thought. If Kakashi hadn't taught Naruto the Kage Bunshin... what had he taught him? A quick glance through his memories confirmed that the only thing Naruto had displayed aside from basic academy training was the Kage Bunshin, and tree walking. And he hadn't begun tree walking training until arriving in the land of waves.

Haku did the mental equivalent of shaking his head. Perhaps he was wrong... maybe Naruto had simply never demonstrated everything he was taught. But...

'Naruto-kun... Could you please look through the rest of that scroll?'

'Hm? Why?'

'Please?'

'Alright, alright... just a moment.'

After quickly scanning the rest of the scroll, containing a whole lot of high class techniques, Naruto's focus returned to the first one, even as Haku painstakingly memorized each and every technique he'd seen. Just in case.

xxx

Haku was impressed again, this time by Naruto's aptitude for learning when he was motivated. It had only been a couple of hours, and Naruto was drained, mentally and physically, but had mastered the technique.

'Heh... now I'll... definitely pass...'

'You did well, Naruto-kun. You... DUCK!'

Naruto threw himself to the ground, a whirling mass of sharp metal barely missing his head.

'RIGHT!'

He hurled himself in a wild roll to the right, once again barely in time to avoid death as dozens of shuriken and kunai slammed into the ground where he'd just been.

A long whistle echoed through the forest.

"Wow... you're better than I expected, brat."

Mizuki slowly faded into view, hopping from a branch to the ground in front of Naruto.

"I'm surprised that you managed to get the scroll undetected though... I was factoring having to race the ANBU to you into my plan. And even most chunnin would have been hard pressed to dodge that second volley. I'd even go so far to say that you've managed to actually learn one of those techniques... an overlooked prodigy. But let's cut to the chase."

"Hand over the scroll. Or I'll kill you."

'RUN, NARUTO! I can feel his murderous intent... even if you give him the scroll, he'll still kill us! This whole thing was a trick!'

Naruto ran.

xxx

You would think that an advanced chunnin like Mizuki would easily catch Naruto, who wasn't even a Genin, right? You would think wrong.

Mizuki's specialty was battle. He had been the heavy hitter and Ninjutsu user of his squad. That didn't involve chasing down someone who didn't want to fight.

Naruto, on the other hand, regularly pranked the village and then had to flee from a large group of trained ninja, some of which were very good at tracking.

To be blunt, he was far better at running away than Mizuki was at following him.

"Rah! Where are you! Come out little fox, and I'll make it quick, but if I have to hunt you down...!"

'Naruto-kun... just offhand, if I hadn't warned you to hide from the Hokage... what would you have done?'

'Sexy Jutsu definitely! The old man is a serious perv, so he would have nosebled and passed out for at least long enough for me to get the scroll.'

'And then ANBU would be looking for us to get the scroll back... damn! I messed up...'

'The whole weird future thing? Don't worry about it. As long as we don't die, we should be fine.'

Cue Mizuki to loom up in front of them.

"Hello little fox... are you ready to give me the scroll yet?"

Naruto darted further into the woods.

'We can't keep running forever, Naruto-kun! We have to find someplace to fight, but first... use the Kage Bunshin! He won't be able to tell which one is us without dispelling all the fakes, so it should buy us a little time at least!'

"Right! Kage Bunshin no Jutsu!"

A brief puff of smoke and suddenly there were six copies of Naruto, each darting off in a different direction. Mizuki seemed to literally howl in rage as he formed his own to follow them.

"Okay... that didn't exactly work out as well as I'd hoped. Any other bright ideas?"

'I'm thinking, I'm thinking.... give me a minute.... Damn. I've got nothing.'

"Didn't you say that while you were alive you had some awesome kekkei genkai? Something to do with water and ice? There should be a pond..."

'I REALLY doubt that'll work, Naruto-kun. After all, that was with my body, and you don't have my bloodline.'

"Well, I'm not seeing any other options... Hey. Looks like they finally noticed it was gone."

Indeed, the Hokage tower was lit up, and a large group of ninja had gathered at the base.

'So basically, we have two choices now. First, we could go directly to the ANBU there and try to talk our way out of this before they kill us... Second, we could keep running and try to avoid Mizuki for as long as possible, and hope the ANBU draw the right conclusions when they catch up to us... unlikely at best.'

"Alright then, let's go with hidden option number three! KAGE BUNSHIN NO JUTSU!"

As the clones poofed into existence, Naruto tossed one the scroll.

"You know what to do with this... now get going. I'll keep Mizuki-baka distracted. You've got to get this back to the old man and explain what happened."

The clone nodded and darted off towards the tower, leaving a few more copies and the real deal waiting for Mizuki to catch up in a small park.

It didn't take long.

"Hmmph. Still the idiot, eh Uzumaki? I was surprised when you showed you'd actually managed to learn the Kage Bunshin from that scroll... so much so that I actually froze for a moment. If you had attacked then, I would have been done for. Now you haven't got a chance. Hm? Where's the scroll? WHERE IS IT?"

Naruto grinned and shot Mizuki the bird, while inwardly he began panicking. He had to keep Mizuki distracted for as long as possible in the hopes that ANBU would show up to save his butt. As long as he thought the scroll was just hidden somewhere nearby, he'd avoid killing Naruto outright... but if he realized the scroll was long gone, he'd kill him in a heartbeat just to have a little more time to run from the pursuers.

What Naruto didn't factor in was Mizuki kicking him in the head and slamming headfirst into a sturdy tree.

'Naruto-kun! Wake-' "-Up!"

Haku paused. What had just happened? When Naruto had blacked out... he'd taken control of the body?

Well, that was slightly better than screaming silently in the back of Naruto's head, but the fact was that he was still only slightly better than an untrained civilian at the moment. He wasn't used to this body, having been completely unaware that it was even possible to take over. He was far more accurate with senbon than the old, rusty, blunt kunai and shuriken in Naruto's pouch. And without his ability to bend water to his will, he was stuck.

He bolted like a frightened rabbit, Mizuki close behind and not noticing that the fox brat didn't seem to be retreating as well as he had before... or if he did, assigning the blame to a possible concussion.

Haku-Naruto tripped as he ran and tumbled directly into a stream, ankle cracking audibly as he fell.

"Shit!"

He began to crawl, splashing audibly through the water, and realized that it was fruitless. They were going to die. Terror easily matching the day that his father had discovered the bloodline he and his mother carried washed through him as he heard Mizuki's heavy gait approaching... stomping on the bank... splashing through the water... the soft rasp of metal against metal as he withdrew a kunai... His eyes snapped shut and he waited for the inevitable pain.

And waited.

Then slowly, he cracked his eyes open and turned around. Mizuki was fully encased in ice, an expression of dumbfounded shock now permamently engraved on his frozen features. It was too much. The stress of having messed up the timestream, combined with the realization that he could take control of Naruto's body, and now added to that, this incontrovertible proof that he, at least, still had access to his Hyouton bloodline... It was just too much for Haku to take in all at once.

He fainted, joining Naruto in unconciousness.

xxx

"-ge-sa-... -urely you-... -ean to-...!"

"Ibi-... -he truth of this matter-... -izuki was the traitor! Naru-... -done no wrong! If a child cannot trust in the words of his Academy Instructor, then who can he put trust in?"

"But Hokage-sama! The... boy... snuck into your tower and stole the forbidden scroll of seals, completely undetected! He must-!"

"Be silent Ebisu! As it turns out, Ibiki was able to garner some interesting information from the ANBU who were _supposed_ to have been on guard last night. Apparently they were each individually offered a very large sum in exchange for being elsewhere."

The man, Ebisu, gasped in shock. Why was it so dark, Naruto wondered? Then he cracked an eye open. Oh.

"But surely the cream of the crop of our ninja forces would not stoop so low as to..."

"Take bribes? I am afraid, Ebisu, that despite their training, shinobi are still human, and thus prone to human weakness. And for the amounts they were offered, even I would be tempted to turn a blind eye... ah. So you're finally awake, Naruto-kun."

Naruto stared vacantly, eyes glazed. He had, after all, taken a very strong knock to the head and was currently drugged up on painkillers. Small wonder that his thoughts were in no coherent order. Still, one thing seemed important enough for him to drag from the ether and give voice to.

"Old man.... did I... pass?"

Sarutobi chuckled as Ebisu gasped at the blatant disrespect towards the Most Important Man In the Village.

With a flourish, the wizened Hokage tugged a Konoha Hitai-ate out of his sleeve and proudly presented it to Naruto, who took it with trembling hands.

"Welcome to active duty, Uzumaki Naruto, Genin of Konoha. The team assignments will be released one week from now."

xxx

A.N. This one really explains itself, I think. It might be enough to be advanced upon at some point. Writing a NaruHaku, Haku, and Zabuza interaction scene might be interesting at some point.


	4. Hp, A Misplaced Second Chance

The war had turned out... badly, to say the least. The final battlefield was more or less a sea of corpses surrounding Hogwarts for as far as the eye could see, giants and acromantulae alongside centaurs and unicorns alongside Death Eaters and Light wizards alike.

Some few had survived, and would make it through, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger being the prime examples. Others were simply clinging desperately to life for as long as they could, Harry Potter, Saviour of the Light being one of these many. All the rest were dead.

The majority of the known wizarding world, aside from those who isolated themselves completely from the rest of the world and even the rest of reality in a few noted cases, such as the fabled Atlanteans, had lived in Britain, where most of the most famous wizards in the world had lived. Ninety nine out of every hundred had gone to fight in that final battle, on one side or another. In short, the wizarding world was completely decimated and would probably not survive, despite the costly victory.

Harry reflected on this as his closest friends left his side to see what they could do for the others, knowing that he would soon be lost, and grieving, but still doing the best they could to save as many lives as they could. He was indescribably proud of them for that.

As he exhaled his last breath, he couldn't help but wish that he could go back, to do things over and get it right this time, to avert this... catastrophe.

And as his eyes closed, his wish was heard, mulled over, and then granted.

Except that somewhere along the way, between being approved and being put into action, there was a minor snafu.

xxx

Draco Malfoy snapped awake and into a sitting position in the same moment, clutching feverishly at his wand as his eyes darted around for enemies. It wasn't until several long moments had passed that his mind began to register what his eyes were seeing.

He was in his room, at Malfoy Manor, and the wand he was clutching was a spare that he could remember using to practice with as a child.

How was that possible? The manor had been burned to the ground, with the lion's share of their possessions inside, by the Dark Lord himself in a fit of pique after Lucius had failed one mission too many, and the Malfoys had been homeless for over a month before the final battle.... the battle! Draco's eyes snapped to his legs.

They were still there. He prodded them experimentally with a finger and began twitching his toes in a sense of awed wonder. And yet, he knew for a fact that the slashing curse that Potter had used to take him out of the battle before continuing on to the Dark Lord had severed one leg completely and left the other hanging on by a mere thread.

He'd... he'd been dying, bleeding out onto dirt that had long since been turned into mud with others blood. So then, how was he here? What was going on...?

"Ah... looks like I'm a little late."

Draco turned his wand to the apparition that had just appeared in his bedroom, who shook his head and sighed.

"Of all the people... easy, kid... mind where you're pointing that thing."

"Who are you?" Draco snarled. "Why are you here?"

"Good questions. But the one you should be asking isn't why _I'm_ here. It's why _you're_ here that's important."

The tip of Draco's wand lowered a fraction of an inch.

"Not going to ask? Well, I'll tell you anyway... Name's Whistler, kid... I'm a balance demon, in service to the Powers That Be. And the reason that you're here, as well as me, is that there's been a big mistake. Mind if I smoke?"

The demon didn't wait for Draco to answer before tugging half a cigar out of a pocket and touching it to the tip of his wand.

"Thanks kid. Now where was I.... yeah. Now the thing is, mistakes do get made, even by the Powers. On that battlefield, someone made a wish... someone that deserved to get the wish, in my opinion. Apparently the Powers thought so too, because they decided to grant it... the problem is that somewhere along the way, one little detail got messed up."

Whistler took a long drag from his cigar.

"Y'see, right now you're supposed to either be bleeding out on the battlefield, or going about today the same way you did the first time around, depending on your perspective. You weren't supposed to be sent back, someone else was."

"Potter." Draco realized aloud, and Whistler nodded.

"Sharp. Now this wouldn't be a problem, cause the Powers could fix this pretty easily. The problem is that doing so would mean that they'd have to _admit_ that one of them had made a mistake. And that's something that they'd never do, not if a dozen eternities passed. So, here you are."

Draco considered that silently for a long minute before lowering his wand slowly.

"So... what's the catch?"

"No catch, kid. You have a second chance, no matter _how_ little you deserve it. I'm just here to tell you how and why... do whatever you want with it, I don't care. You could probably convince a lot of people you're a Seer, if you're so inclined, or you could spend your time in the depths of a bottle trying to forget your horrible end. With luck though, neither of us will ever see each other again. Heh... my jobs done now, so I'll be leaving, but you might want to straighten yourself up a bit because in about two minutes your mum's gonna send an elf to let you know that you're going to pick up some new school robes at Diagon Alley. Hope I never, ever see you again."

As suddenly as he arrived, the demon was gone, leaving Draco perspiring slightly under his nightrobe. Then he shook it off and, like the good slytherin he'd eventually become, began to plot. A quick Tempus showed that the demon hadn't been lying... he was in his eleven-year old body and it wouldn't be long before his first term at Hogwarts. Today... something important had happened today, he remembered, but what had it been?

Potter. Today was the first time he'd met Potter, even if he hadn't known at the time. A thrill siezed him, even as the elf... Dory or Dullard or something, it had disappeared sometime after second year and he couldn't be bothered to remember its name.... popped into the room and relayed its message as it ushered him to the closet.

He was preoccupied with thought, though. _Potter_. He knew Potter's every dirty little secret, from the Parseltongue to his relatives. If he wanted, he could utterly destroy Potter, crush him down to the proper size of the muggle-raised nobody that he should be! He smirked and wallowed in his fantasy for a moment before another important tidbit of information came to him.

He could destroy Potter, yes, but technically... Technically, Potter wasn't an enemy yet.

The thought floored him, and his thoughts took a sudden, completely new turn. Today was Potter's first introduction to the wizarding world. He was still ignorant... no, naive. He could avenge himself in advance for all the indignities he'd suffered at Potter's hand, yes... but upon further thought that was a vicious cycle, as it would most certainly make an enemy of Potter once more, and possibly an even more vicious one than the first time.

But what if... what if he could make Potter an _ally_? The idea stuck in his craw, as embittered memories flashed through his mind's eye, but it still held some allure. If he remembered right, then Potter was still very trusting at this point. Naive. Gullible, after all he'd fallen for the Weasley's 'all the other compartments are full' line and let him in to gawk at his scar, and after that the redhead had clung to him like a barnacle for the most part.

The only problem with their first meeting was that Draco had come off on the completely wrong foot and pressed all the wrong buttons with Potter, effectively prodding at wounds that hadn't had a chance to heal over and scar quite yet. Fix that, and things could be very, very different.

Narcissa noticed that morning, over breakfast, that her son was very quiet and subdued, seeming to be lost in thought. She chalked it up to nerves and anxiety over the coming school year and brushed it off.

xxx

Draco timed things as closely as possible to what he could remember, but was still nervous as he held out his pin-encrusted sleeves. What if he'd misremembered the time? What if Madame Malkin finished and shooed him off before Potter even arrived? What if, what if, what if?

Draco sighed quietly in relief as Potter finally entered, eyes roving over everything like a kid who'd just gained admittance to his first candy store. It wasn't really surprising that he'd not recognized the boy the first time... the short, rag-clad form was far from what he'd expected of 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'. He silently restrained the impulse to start giggling hysterically and composed himself as one of Malkin's assistants began measuring him.

After a short period of silence, Draco began his sinister plot.

"Hogwarts?" He asked quietly, then waited for the other boy's answering nod. "Ah... any idea what House?"

Potter looked confused.

"Oh... I see. Muggleborn? Someone should have explained this to you already... no? Well, I guess it's my job now then. Hogwarts has four houses... Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Each holds different values as more important than the others, and new students are sorted into one of the four houses. Can't tell you how it's done, I'm afraid... the suspense is a traditional part of the affair, I'm told."

"I... I see." Potter mumbled, looking worried.

"Hm, do you? That's good. In any case, I expect to be sorted into Slytherin. My entire family has been, for generations, as far as I know. It's what's expected of me. But I seem to have gotten ahead of myself... back to the Houses, and their values. Gryffindor prizes bravery. It's popularly held as the 'best' of the four houses because the current Headmaster was a Gryffindor during his schooling. Unfortunately, Gryffindors tend to lack any real sort of scholastic drive as a whole, but despite that a majority find themselves in the Auror corps... oh, I'm sorry, that's something like... what was the word... oh yes, policemen. Do you follow so far?"

Harry nodded.

"Good, good... now, Ravenclaw values intelligence. They're the scholastically driven ones, the... ah... 'nerds'."

Harry snorted before catching himself.

"Oh don't worry. Just don't spread around that I said that, Ravenclaws tend to be well ahead of the rest of the year in terms of spellwork because of all their independent study. Supposedly, they have a library in their dormitories, which is why they tend to be sleepy during the day, as they can read a good part of the night without having to worry about being out after curfew. On the downside, few of them interact socially outside of other Ravenclaws... hm, probably because the rest want to copy off their homework."

"You're finished, dearie." Madame Malkin chimed in and Draco nodded, but otherwise ignored her.

"Hufflepuffs look for loyalty. This has left them with the reputation of being a house for 'misfits' because aside from that loyalty there are very few unifying factors. In spite of that, all Puffs stick together, and a majority end up in public service jobs. More than half the Ministry of Magic... which is the law-makers and people who keep things running smoothly, were Hufflepuffs. Puffs tend to hold enormous social gatherings, which I'd advise you not to attend until you're certain you can recall at least half the attendee's names and faces at a moments notice."

"Ah..." Potter mumbled to himself. "And, uh..."

"Slytherin? We prize ambition, but lately Slytherin is going through... bad times. The most recent Dark Lord was a Slytherin, and that's... tainted the name of the house for some time yet, I'm afraid. In the eyes of the masses, Slytherin House is one big Dark Uprising waiting to happen. Something you must keep in mind is that, like there are good people and bad people, there are good and bad wizards, and with recent history, the public would like to believe that all bad wizards are Slytherins."

Draco snorted artfully.

"Ridiculous, of course. The recent Dark Lord and most of his forces _were_ Slytherins, there's no doubting or denying that... but the one before him was a Gryffindor, and the Dark Lady before him was a Ravenclaw. Each had a decade or two of stigma to bear too, and now it's Slytherin's turn. But I'm off topic... in any case, the majority of Slytherins become either cutthroat politicians, or ah... spoiled aristocracy. Hm... I suppose I qualify as the latter."

Draco gave his most charming smile, and was answered in return with a small grin from Potter. Success!

"I seem to have forgotten to introduce myself, however. Draco Malfoy, at your service. I'd offer to introduce you to my parents, but... ah... Well, there are my father's politcal views to consider. Lets just leave it at 'He doesn't like Muggleborns', shall we?"

Draco crossed his fingers and was rewarded when Potter piped up.

"I'm not a muggleborn... I mean, uh, I only just found out about the wizarding world, and I was raised by muggle relatives, but my parents were magical, Hagrid says."

"Hagrid... oh, the groundskeeper? Rubeus Hagrid?" Draco allowed a smidgen of doubt to cross his face before wiping it away. "Well, I can't imagine why they would send him... oh, don't look at me like that, it's just... well, he's not the most tactful person around, is he?"

Harry had to grudgingly nod at that, feeling unnaccountably guilty at the admission.

"Well, normally they send either one of the heads of house or the deputy headmistress to speak to the parents of muggleborns. Smooth things over gently. Perhaps they were busy, though.... well, it does explain why you didn't know about the houses. Usually muggleborns are given an information packet, but he may have forgotten. That and, if you arent technically a muggleborn, it could be assumed that you already know things that 'everyone' knows, simply by virtue growing up in a wizards household. Still, muggle-raised would be slightly easier for Father to swallow than muggleborn, I suppose... Oh, I'm sorry. I've talked your ear off and I haven't even gotten your name...?"

"Ah... Harry. Harry Potter."

Draco made a point of arching his eyebrows, even though he knew full well who the other boy was. Deception was an art form, and everything had to be perfect.

"Really? Well... I'm afraid that settles it. I definitely can't introduce you to Father now."

Harry looked floored, and he quickly moved along.

"It's nothing about you, personally. It's just... well, you're rather famous, and Father... He's a politician to the core. If he could sink his claws into you, he'd not even have a second thought before using you and your fame to further his own plots. No, best that he not realize just yet that we have met, I think."

"Is he... really that bad?" Harry wondered hesitantly.

"In all honesty? He's much worse than whatever you're imagining. He can't really help it though... it's just his nature."

"You're done too now, dearie." Madame Malkin interrupted again. Draco stood up languidly and extended a hand.

"Ah... all this talk is too depressing. We need something to cheer us up now... Ice cream? My treat, of course."

Inside, Draco was smirking as Potter took his hand. Everything was going according to plan.

xxx

He was still pleased enough with the results of that day to wear a little, privately amused smirk right up until the day came to head to Hogwarts. Hagrid had, of course, shown up in the middle of their snack with a caged owl, and Draco had waited for an appropriate cue to gently chide Potter for not letting him know it was his birthday. Then, of course, he'd dragged Harry off to buy a second pet, against his protests.

Technically, only one was allowed per student at Hogwarts, but Dumbledore had a long history of bending the rules for students that he favored. Not that he said that out loud, but he knew it wouldn't be a problem. Hagrid had seemed a touch concerned about his choice of pet though, and had mumbled something under his breath involving the words 'Slytherin' and 'Dark'. Harry's concerned frown was proof that he'd heard as well, and he'd politely accepted the serpent. By this point Draco was sure that he'd begun talking to the snake, with no idea of the stigma against Parseltongues.

Ah, but today was another big day. Lucius had privately taken Draco aside and ordered him to make friends with Potter, just like the first time around, with no idea that he'd already privately accomplished that feat. He'd no intentions of just letting Lucius make half-cocked plans on how to use Potters not-inconsequential influence, however. Not when he could use it far better.

He'd already privately told Potter about the means to enter Platform Nine and Three Quarters before leaving him to Hagrid, knowing full well the oaf wouldn't remember to. That neatly bypassed one problem and really, the rumors of how he'd found it the first time were ridiculous. The Weasley mother had gone to Hogwarts herself, and so had all of her red-headed brood. The idea that she'd forgotten where the platform was was simply inconcievable. Obviously, Potter couldn't recognize a set-up when he saw one.

Still, Dumbledore was plotting for him to be friendly with the Weasleys, for whatever reason, and the old man was nothing if not persistent. So there had to be some sort of meeting with the Weasels.... ah. That would do it. It would put all his acting skills to the test, but it would pay off if he could pull it off.

He calmly hugged his mother goodbye and entered the train, followed by the two furless gorrilas Crabbe and Goyle. Their families had a long-standing relationship... The Malfoy would help the other two muddle through schooling, and they would help the Malfoy in ways reminiscent to mafia thugs.

Most of that waited until after the schooling years, of course.

Draco carefully waited, catching a glimpse of Potter entering the platform, followed minutes later by the Weasley brood. The matron looked miffed about something... it could be because she'd missed Potter, or it could be because the twins were loudly talking about all the pranks they planned to pull this school year right next to her, without bothering to hide it. He gave it another ten minutes, enough time for the train to pull out and the students to find their seats. Then another five, to make sure that the youngest male Weasley had an opportunity to introduce himself to Potter.

Only then did he stand and begin sauntering slowly down the train, glancing through the car windows. It wasn't long before he found them, the redhead chatting an uncomfortable Potter's ear off. He calmly let himself in and shooed his hulking followers away before nodding at Potter's slightly desperate glance his way.

"Ah, Weasley. What a surprise to see you here."

Ron's eyes snapped from Potter's scar to Draco's smile and he went instantly hostile.

"Malfoy." He hissed. Harry's gaze snapped between the two of them.

"You... know each other?" he asked. Draco snorted.

"We've not met, but I believe we've heard a great deal of each other from our parents... none of it good, of course. May I?" He asked, waving at a seat. Harry nodded and Ron completely freaked.

"You, you can't let _him_ sit with us! He's from a dark family, he'll be a Slytherin, I'm sure of it!"

"You see that little hint of stigma I mentioned before?" Draco smiled and continued. "Of course, it's probably made a touch worse in Ronald's case... the Weasley's and the Malfoy's have been fueding for generations. Technically, only a few decades ago we had to go to different schools if we were within seven years of each other's ages because we both felt obligated to kill each other wherever and whenever we met."

"You're all dark wizards!" Ron continued with his hysterics. "You... I know. You want to corrupt Harry, to turn the Boy-Who-Lived to your evil, you slimy snake!" Harry winced at the pretentious title and again at the word 'snake' and his hand darted momentarily to his arm, where Draco assumed the serpent he'd given him was coiled.

"Easy now Weasley. One would almost think you were trying to... pick a fight."

Ron growled incoherently and clutched at the handle of his wand, as though he desperately wanted to draw it but was only barely restraining himself.

"Go _away_ Malfoy." He snarled, and Draco arched an eyebrow.

"Hmm... if you insist. Coming, Harry?"

Ron stared in silent disbelief as the boy he was sure was going to be his new best friend in the world happily got up and left with Malfoy, with what appeared to be two robed troll infants entering moments after to carry his trunk and caged owl after them. What had just happened?

In the meantime, Draco allowed himself a quick smirk before allowing his face to fall back into a genial smile. Granger was, despite her blood status, useful. Her sheer intelligence and drive to succeed all but ensured that she would be an important person and valuable ally one day. Weasley, however, was not. He'd spent the majority of the first timeline dragging Potter down as close to his level as he could and deflecting all of Granger's efforts to pull him up until it was almost too late. All he was interested in was chess, quidditch, and stuffing his face.

No, that simply wouldn't do. The only thing the redhead had to offer was the skills and abilities of his brothers, and those were easily enough acquired by Harry making friends with them without having to go through Ron, cutting him out of the equation entirely. A small... alright, rather large, sadistic part of Draco quietly hoped that the Weasel flunked out of Hogwarts without the opportunity to copy off of Granger.

No, he was more than pleased at taking the place of Ron in the original 'Golden Trio'. And... speak of the devil. Here came Granger now...

"Excuse me... have any of you seen a toad?"

"I'm afraid not, ma'am." Draco replied, bringing every scrap of courtly manner learned in and for 'polite society' to the fore as he bowed slightly. "Were you looking for one?"

"I... yes." She said, mildly flustered. Good to know that he still had it. "There's a boy, he's lost it..."

"Ah... well then, there's a simple answer to that in a common household spell. Watch closely now... Accio."

A door near the rear of the train banged open to the sound of girlish squeals and a small, slightly slimy object flying through and past the compartments at speed to come to a stop in the palm of Draco's hand. The confused amphibian croaked and attempted to hop away before Draco closed his fingers around it, pinning it down. Granger squealed like the little girl she still was and clapped her hands.

"Ah, the summoning charm. Invented by Adelbert the Senile, who kept getting frustrated that he could never remember where he'd left his hat and undergarments. I'd caution you against using it on sharp or pointy objects, though.. there are a couple of accounts of wizards who lost fingers or a hand after summoning a kitchen knife."

Granger paled slightly, but still looked fascinated, and Draco ruthlessly crushed his urge to smirk again. With just a touch of on the spot spellwork, he'd ingratiated himself with both the bookworm and Longbottom, wherever he was, who had grown up to become a surprisingly powerful wizard in his own right.

Quite a coup, and one to be proud of. They'd finished off a great number of Death Eaters between the two of them, after all.

"Draco Malfoy, at your service miss...?"

She flushed again as he bowed slightly, going far beyong too polite, to tell the truth.

"Granger. Hermione Granger. A-and thank you for your help with the toad."

"Of course. It was the least I could do... And I think you shall find that I always try to do the least I can do."

She giggled, and it was all Draco could do not to allow and evil leer to sprout on his face. Scaring off the Muggleborn firstie would be entirely counterproductive to his plots.

"Hermione... hmm. The name rings a faint bell... Some sort of literature. Shakespeare, maybe? Oh don't mind me, I'll piece it together at some point. In any case, Harry and I were about to hunt down the lady with the snack cart. Care to join us?"

"Oh... but I shouldn't. I have to get Neville's toad back to him, and sweets are so bad for your teeth...."

"Ah... Well, if you insist. Although I will say that you're missing out... are you sure I can't tempt you? My treat."

She nibbled at her lower lip for a moment, considering, before she broke and gave in to Draco's most charming smile. And to think that in the previous timeline she would have been shocked to learn that he could be personable, even affable, when the situation required it. It was simply that in that timeline, the situation had only very rarely required it.

xxx

A.N. Very, very minor cross with Buffy the Vampire Slayer here, but Whistler is the only character introduced and it's highly probable that he'll never show up again after this. Standard 'second chance' shtick, but Draco ends up getting the second chance, something I don't believe I've ever seen done before.


	5. Naruto,Hp, Mahou no Orochi

So this was death. Huh. Well no wonder he'd avoided it so desperately.

Upon Sasuke's successful repulsion of Orochimaru's essence from his body, he had found himself sitting in a small waiting room with a numbered ticket in hand, dozens of white clad and faceless others around him, clutching tickets of their own.

"Why-?"

"Can't you see their faces?" came a chirpy interruption. "Security precaution. Those that were enemies in life can't recognize each other in death, even if that enmity is relatively inconsequential. Political rivals for instance. You though... well, you put most of those people here. I think it's safe to say that they would be a bit _too_ happy to see you, if you understand my meaning."

There was a tiny flash as a marble sized speck of pale blue light appeared floating in front of his face. Orochimaru had seen a lot, but this whole situation would have caused at least a minor ping of oddness and confusion, if only it weren't for the whole being dead thing.

"So... what now? This is a far cry from what I'd expected..."

"Demons dragging your tortured soul to the depths of the underworld, where it would reside for the rest of eternity? Yeah, that was pretty much the plan for you... you were a very bad boy, after all."

Orochimaru began to snarl almost animalistically before the speck continued rapidly.

"But there's been a change of plans. It wasn't intentional, I assure you.... in fact, nobody's really sure how your name got on the list, but nobody thought you were likely to be selected, and... well..."

"Get to the point."

"Yes... the truth is, there's been a mix up. A child with a destiny, dead before his time, and we need to get a replacement soul into the body. Possible names were selected, and one was chosen at random... you... to fill this need. Time is a factor though, and we need your consent before we can continue."

Orochimaru let off a quick sharp laugh.

"I see.. and what were the odds of my being selected for this... honor?"

"978372721952853940120804..... to one. Against."

Orochimaru raised a single brow in surprise at the immediately regurgitated number, slightly stunned... though he would later deny it if asked.

"Well... I shall not waste the opportunity. Do-"

He was interrupted as the speck, hearing only his approval of the plan, slammed into his forehead and everything went dark.

He woke in a building that seemed to be about to collapse around them, only a few feet away from a woman's corpse and a pile of cloth with a stick rolling away from it. Also, he was incredibly small and his muscles didn't seem to work properly.

"Iglagad kbulestelunzp..." He forced out, realizing only after the fact that, as an infant, he didn't exactly have the best speech control either.

"Just think your questions, and I shall know them. I'm your guide now, so we share a mental link of sorts, as I inhabit a part of your body. Think of me as your conscience, if you can recall having such a thing. Redemption? No, it's not actually required. Feel free to be as naughty as you wish, so long as you fulfill the destiny required of the child... when the body dies, you'll just end up going to hell as per the original plan. I'm sure I don't know what you mean... I am a heavenly being, and thus have no sense of sarcasm. Or humor. Well if you don't want to go to hell, you'd best be a good- I take _supreme_ offense to that remark! Well, yes, I suppose if you never die, then you have nothing to fear from the afterlife, but I should warn you that many have had similar thoughts and not one of them have ever... why you cheeky little bastard! Hmph."

Orochimaru managed to force a gurgle that he'd meant to be a sinister cackle through infantile vocal cords, then glowered when it didn't come out right. That didn't come out right either, turning out morbidly cute rather than the terrifying leer that he'd hoped for... not that he realized that.

A large man entered the room and lifted Orochimaru out of the crib as cracks began appearing in the roof as it began to sag inwards. He didn't admit it, not even to himself, but he was mildly relieved at that, as he hadn't been entirely sure how he would have found his way out on his own.

Then he had to pause to wonder just how the large man had known about the situation, and yet hadn't been able to step in before now. The question left him so deep in his thoughts that he almost missed when the machine the large man had bundled him into lifted off the ground.

The new question of 'What the hell?' suddenly occupied all of his attention.

"For the most part, this place is much more technologically focused than the place you came from, although the flight of this particular machine is aided by... well, I don't expect you'll understand anyway, so I'll just say it's something like a jutsu, just totally and completely different."

Orochimaru was hypnotized with the possibilities, to the point that he missed the whole trip and the following conversation, and only came back to his senses later, in a basket with a letter tucked under his arm. Wait- what had he missed?

"The letter is a brief explanation from Albus Dumbledore to Petunia Dursley, in the hopes that she'll take you into her family and love you like a son. Eh? Will it work? Judging from what I understand of the situation... no, probably not. In fact, considering just how much she hates her sister... your new, dead mom now, by the way... she'll probably try to smother you to death or something. No, I'm not exactly sure how the boy was meant to survive... that's odd."

Orochimaru frowned, then fumbled the letter up to his mouth, where he began chewing vigorously. Because dammit, if he died now there would definitely be no immortality in the works for him. By the time Petunia opened the door, several hours later, the letter was no more than thoroughly shredded mush, completely illegible, and he'd swallowed the waxy seal to get rid of it.

He did his best to look cute and innocent, something that would have been impossible for him to pull off as an adult, as the Dursleys discussed him in detail. In the end, it was decided that they would be doing the 'normal' thing, as per usual, to keep up appearances. And what was normal was apparently to take the nameless orphan in until further notice.

Orochimaru could see nothing wrong with that plan for the forseeable future.

xxx

A.N. I'm not really sure about this one. The Dursleys take proper care of Orochimaru-in-Harry's-body because they don't know about the magic, blah blah blah, reputation as a really creepy genius child as he absorbs all the knowledge he can get his hands on, beginning the moment he can hold a book properly. Also, he works out a way to make most, if not all, of his ninjutsu work again and gets his body back to a point that he considers 'adequate', and everyone else considers 'ridiculous levels of physical power, speed, and flexibility'. Curse Seals might be involved somehow, and Parseltongue will definitely be.


	6. Pokemon, Emphasis on Monster

_What if Pokemon weren't designed to be 'Cute'_

xxx

"Ash. _Ash._ Ash, you need to go too sleep... Oh. Oh, Ash, why are you watching something like this so late at night? You'll have nightmares."

"Mo-om... It's the final battle of the tournament. I want to see who wins."

Onscreen were two powerful creatures, facing off in an arena. Gengar, a ghostly apparation of a mutated skeleton wreathed in a toxic purple fog, against a much larger Onix, a gigantic snake whose scales were actually chips of stone, allowing it to easily hide in mountainous and craggy areas despite its size, lying in wait for prey to happen by.

The Onix opened its mouth to roar at its translucent opponent... and Delia huffed in irritation and flipped the power switch. Naturally, Ash wasn't exactly pleased with her decision.

"_Moooo-oooom!_"

"Don't take that tone with _me_, Ash. Besides, you know full well that most tournaments that are broadcasted are faked for the publicity. If you _must_ know which of the finalists paid the other to take a dive on camera, you can look in the morning news. In the meantime...." She tugged out an old videocassette from her apron. "Why not watch something educational, for once? This might be a little outdated, but nothing's really changed _that_ much since it was filmed."

Ash settled down as Delia plugged the video in and turned the television back on. There was a moment of static, and Professor Oak was revealed. A younger Oak, obviously, as his hair was still a uniform black and, while he had a few minor scars, he still had all his limbs and both eyes and ears. The young-Oak on the screen coughed into his fist.

"Excuse me. I am Professor Oak. And you, if you are watching this recording, are a prospective Pokemon Trainer. Now that the introductions are out of the way, let's cut right to the heart of the matter. Being a Pokemon Trainer is a dangerous venture. Pokemon are dangerous creatures. Yet a trainer's job is, in essence, to travel between the safe, walled cities and subdue the Pokemon they come across, either killing them, and making the path marginally safer for the next person to travel it, or capturing them to aid in subduing others. Of course, that is hampered by other concerns. A trainer might also be called upon to defend a town should a swarm of pokemon be sighted nearby, or be hired to help guard a trade caravan moving between towns. In essence, you see, a trainer is the equivalent of the captain of a small, but potentially very powerful, mercenary squad."

Delia paused the recording.

"I remember that Professor Oak got in a bit of political trouble for saying that. Technically it's the truth, but the League didn't like him saying it so bluntly to new trainers, you see. Apparently they felt it increased their chances of doing something stupid. You'll notice when you talk to him tomorrow that he's much less on blunt statements these days and more on vague, ambivalent ones. He still gets his point across, but if an official gets upset with something he says, he can claim that they must have misinterpreted his statement."

Ash nodded and Delia started the recording again.

"Moving along, the gym system and Badges are status symbols for a trainer. The more badges one has, the more lucrative the jobs they are offerred. And the more dangerous. Secondarily, badges determine where a trainer can safely travel. A trainer without any badges would be wise to stick directly to the well-travelled paths between towns, for instance. Also, the badges serve as tokens of leadership capability to the trainer's pokemon. Without them, they can become unruly if they become too powerful, or are defeated too regularly in combat. On a side note, I _cannot_ stress enough the dangers of a pokemon becoming unruly. The trainer _must_ keep in mind that all pokemon are omnivorous to one degree or another and, as our bodies are quite frail in comparison to theirs, and we are completely incapable of learning any sort of elemental techniques whatsoever, we can swiftly find ourselves categorized as an easy meal."

"You keep that in mind Ash... that's _still_ the leading cause of trainer deaths and dissappearances. Some idiot doesn't pay enough attention to his prize pokemon's behavior, one day it just turns around and bites his fool head off. Lost your uncle that way."

"Y... Yeah...."

"Using the state-of-the-art Pokeball devices, a trainer..."

"Oh, we can skip this bit. He just talks about how the Pokeball works and cautions people not to release freshly caught pokemon for at least six to twelve hours, enough time for the subconscious hypnosis to set in properly. I should think you've heard that song and dance enough times in school that it's set in properly."

Ash just nodded, not at all willing to admit that he'd completely forgotten that little rule until she brought it up again. The screen wavered slightly as Delia skipped to what she remembered to be the next bit.

"... As a trainer is just starting out, there is always the danger of coming across something too difficult for him to handle. This is because, while many pokemon are happy to remain in a fixed territory, others have shown tendencies to wander, often ending up in places they do not naturally inhabit. Once the death tolls reached levels that the league found unacceptable, a temporary new rule was implemented. During the time between the trainer being issued their starter pokemon and the acquiring of their third badge, the trainer would be partnered with an older, more experienced pokemon trainer, typically an older sibling, termed a handler. This was proven to be a relatively effective countermeasure and was swiftly ratified into permament law. I would like to take a moment to stress to the trainer that the handler is _not_ going to make a habit of fighting your battles, or capturing pokemon for you. On the other hand, I must also stress that if your handler gives you an order, that you must obey it immediately and without question or hesitation. It could well mean your survival. Also, do not hesitate to ask questions of your handler. You will doubtless find them to be a wellspring of real world experience."

Oak coughed into his hand again, and took a sip from a glass of water sitting nearby.

"And now, to the part that I shall assume you have been patiently waiting for. The pokemon starters themselves. We shall begin with the primary Kanto selection, starting with the fire-type, Charmander."

Oak tapped a button and a projector of some sort created a holographic display of the orange reptile.

"As a fire-type, it can be notoriously difficult to raise and must be kept firmly in line. It is primarily a carnivore, although many domesticated Charmander have shown a taste for certain fruit, including apples and peaches. Wild ones keep an almost completely carnivorous diet, due in no small part to the fact that their tail flame tends to set fruit trees and bushes on fire at the slightest touch. Its evolutionary path brings it through Charmeleon and to Charizard, wherupon it gains a secondary type of flying. I would not, however, advise attempts to rush Charmander's evolution as hastily-evolved fire-types have shown a proven tendency to become intractable and dangerous. On the positive side of things, a trainer starting with a Charmander need not bother carrying matches as fire types will take delight in setting anything at all on fire, given the command. Just be sure to keep a bucket of water or sand handy, in case of accidents or overenthusiasm."

Oak tapped the button again and the hologram switched to the image of something like a greenish-blue snapping turtle.

"The second of the primary starters, the water-type Squirtle. As a water type, Squirtle is much easier to deal with than the tempermental Charmander. Squirtle in the wild are placid, and live mainly off of water plants, along with whatever swims too close to its face. Squirtle trainers should make a point out of keeping that in mind, as Squirtle have very powerful jaws and their automatic instinct is to snap. More than one person has lost a hand or foot that way to even the most domesticated of Squirtle. Their evolutionary line is to Wartortle, then Blastoise, and as they evolve their diets change. Wartortle make a habit of hunting other water types for food, but can return to aquatic plants in the case of an unlucky hunt. By the time they become Blastoise, they are experienced enough hunters that they can take to the ocean and compete directly with wild Gyarados in keeping down the population of Tentacruel."

Ash shuddered lightly at the mention of the last two pokemon. Pallet _was_ a coastal town, and the sailors always had horror stories. Gyarados and the more common Tentacruel were featured heavily in them as they could, and did, attack ship transports passing through their territory. Oak tapped the button again.

"And the third of the primary starters, the grass/poison type Bulbasaur. As a grass type, it is much more placid and easily managed than the other two primary starters, at least partially because it can naturally subsist for some time on sunlight. However, due to its poison type, it has a particularly nasty streak if upset, and it much prefers a meat-heavy diet, whenever possible. This tendency continues along its evolutionary line of Ivysaur and Venusaur. It is capable of evolving slightly sooner than the other two as well.... but I must stress once again the dangers of evolving pokemon. They do become more powerful, yes, but the likelyhood of them becoming unruly and a danger to the trainer increases with the evolution as well."

Oak tapped a different button on the hologram projector shut down entirely.

"There are, of course, secondary starters, as it is relatively rare that only three trainers begin in the same year, but those are rather more irregular. The league makes a point out of ensuring that there are three primary starters available. Nothing else is guaranteed. But I'm sure you'll find that out tomorrow."

Oak nodded sagely. And waited. After about a minute of silence, he coughed into his fist. Another few seconds, and-

"Will you cut the damn camera, alre-"

The screen broke into static and Delia reached to switch the power off.

"I'd get some sleep, Ash. Big day tomorrow."

xxx

The night passed relatively quietly.

There were a couple of brief skirmishes as nocturnal pokemon attempted to climb Pallet's stone walls, but then, there always were. The night shift of the town militia made short work of the incursions before retreating back to their roofed and enclosed guardstations.

There were underwater chains set between sunken pillars out to sea that would, in theory, keep the larger aquatic creatures out. In practice, that only worked if the chains were kept constantly electrified, which was far too wasteful to be practical. What they actually did was provide a warning... should one of those chains be broken through, it would start automatic alarms blaring as a signal for every militia member with a grass or electric type to hoof it to the docks to protect the boats. Sometimes it was a false alarm, and they only had to send someone out to repair the chain with no harm done. Sometimes it wasn't, and they would only just arrive in time to fight off a swarm of water types. Tonight however, the most exciting thing to happen on the shore was when a Magikarp beached itself and began to suffocate noisily. It was quickly finished off and carted to public cold-storage. No doubt someone would eat it.

And thankfully, most nocturnal flyers were cave-dwellers, or would ignore the town for easier prey. Much easier to hunt a Rattata in the forest than to circle and wait, hoping that a foolish human would leave one of their sturdy houses or guard posts. There were, of course, countermeasures in place for use in the event of an aerial assault as well but while they were kept in working order, they were very rarely used. Tonight was no exception.

And then dawn broke, the daytime guard left their houses to relieve the night shift, some obvious bustle becoming apparent around and inside Oak's laboratory, and then the day began in earnest.

And one Ash Ketchum recieved a very rude wake-up call involving a bucket of ice-cold water.

He was still irritated about the manner of his awakening as he made his way to Oak's lab, making sure to glance warily at the sky now and again. Walls did little to keep out things with wings. Regular parties went out to keep the local levels of Pidgey and Spearow down to manageable levels, but it didn't hurt to be wary. Or paranoid, even. Or to act as he was, like a terrified rabbit, and dart from one roofed enclosure to the next.

Deep-seated childhood trauma and all that, combined with the fact that until he got a Pokemon of his own, he was pretty much defenseless against any wild ones that decided he looked tasty.

Once he made it into the Professor's lab, he heaved a great sigh of relief, then focused on composing himself.

It would not be a good thing to show fear in front of his new Pokemon.

xxx

A.N. Wrote this a good while back, intending it to be a longer first chapter for a story that I never got around to finishing for whatever reason.

Basically, it's a Pokemon universe that wasn't designed for little kids. Less 'Pocket', more 'Monsters'. They can be trained just like the base pokemon, but they're much more like real animals. Given an opportunity they'll eat each other, which was a concept that was glossed over in both the games and anime to protect children's sensibilities of some such ridiculousness. They'll also happily eat people, which was a concept that was quite simply never suggested at all.

Other details have been tweaked as well, making it a much harsher place than normal. In all honesty though... I like this better.


	7. Ranma, SM, Lord Ranma

Lord Ranma

xxx

Ranma Saotome was a problem. It wasn't that he actively sought out trouble.... far from it, really. It was simply that he was a chaotic snarl of tangles in what was supposed to be a gentle, even weave. The only way to fix such snarls was to clip them out in their entirety, lest they ruin the whole cloth.

But the _real_ problem about Ranma, reflected the guardian of the Time Gates, was that unlike others, he simply refused to lie down and die!

It wasn't that she enjoyed killing people off.... Well, maybe there was just a touch of a certain guilty thrill, but that wasn't important. People dangerous to the flow of time usually at least did her the favor of staying dead.

It completely escaped her that everything she did was just making things worse, as the 'disaster' she'd started into this to prevent had simply been Ranma hurtling out of the air to land in a fresh crater in the middle of a battle between the Sailor Senshi and the random monster of the week. He'd summarily thrashed the creature and left. That was all that the Senshi had ever seen of him, and they'd never come into contact again.

But the mere realization that there were normal people out there who could take down monsters on their own had been enough to shake the Senshi somewhat.... and reduce the chances of Crystal Tokyo coming about by a full zero point three percent. It didn't sound like much, did it? But it was actually rather substantial.

The first attempt to remove him had been simple manipulation from afar of one of his rivals.... Mousse had realized that guns could be classified as weapons too. And as fast as Ranma was, he couldn't dodge the full spray of fire from two submachine guns. Mousse had left Saotome in a happy daze, to 'claim his Shampoo'.

Pity that Ranma had managed to hold out long enough to get to the hospital. It had taken some doing on the part of the emergency room staff, but he'd lived. And apparently woken up to the realization that his 'buddies' _really were_ doing their damndest to kill him.

In that timeline, certain regulars of Nerima slowly came up missing as the Yakuza expanded its territory, a shadowy new crime lord at their head. Oddly enough, not even Nabiki put two and two together to equate 'Ranma' with 'The Stallion'.

Hm. Again, Ranma ended up crossing paths with a monster of the week attack.... only this time he'd had a platoon of bodyguards with him in his 'official' capacity. A Youma aganst a squad of cops with nightsticks or tonfa was one thing. But as it turned out, enough bullets _would_ kill them. Especially if there was a thick enough spray to actually carve the thing to pieces. It probably would have regenerated from that eventually, as it was still screaming obscenities at the Yaks, but they'd swiftly gotten around to heaping the limbs up on the torso, dousing it with some spare gasoline from the back of one of the cars, and a lit match finished it off for good. Once it stopped screaming they went back to their business, ignoring the short skirted cheerleading brigade who had watched the whole thing in a surprised sort of awe.

Okay, try to fix this.... maybe if Nabiki actually _did_ equate.... oh dear. Oh that _is_ messy. A testament to why one doesn't try to blackmail the local crimelord. She'd thought her smarter than that. Alright, rewind..... back to the broken and bloody bullet ridden scene.

Just a bit of tampering and all phone lines in the area went out shortly before Mousse attacked. This time, Ranma bled out in front of screaming bystanders. Good. Aside from initial shock, nobody in Nerima really cared. Also good. Nodoka sent the fathers to have Ranma cremated, and they decided to half ass things once again, dropping the boy's heavy coffin off a cliff to sink slowly into the ocean as it floated away while they filled the urn with ashes from the leftovers of a nearby barbecue.

Hm. Okay. It's not like that was really unexpected, come to think of it. The problem was where Ranma's corpse had ended up. Through a bizarre series of ecological events, the coffin was still floating by the time it hit america and, through some unexplained twist, the river it hit began flowing backwards for a couple of days, landing it in..... Racoon city. Great.

Pluto watched on, morbidly fascinated, as the animated corpse of Ranma Saotome set itself up as leader of the shambling hoards and they systematically ate the world, leading it to its final death as just one more floating ball of rock as even the zombies starved to death over millenia. REWIND!

Okay, lets go a little bit further back. Hm. Love pill incident. That would do. Just make a careful switch so that he swallowed the lifetime pill instead of the instant one, and he'd spend the rest of his life in a backwater chinese village either married to a hideous old crone or mourning at her grave. Or he would have been, if the crone in question didn't later come across mushrooms from the forest of time. And..... yes, the Amazons were _warriors_ werent they. Once the duo of a youthened Cologne and a Ranma trained in absolutely everything they had to offer, rather than just the tidbits they'd been showing him as temptations got together... There was a decent chance of them taking over all of China after they dealt with their warring neighbors. A slightly smaller chance than that of them conquering all of Asia. And a slightly smaller chance of them using Asia as a springboard to conquer the world, one country at a time.

Hm. That won't do at all. No, it seemed she'd have to go back further. The first meeting at the Tendos? It only took a little bit for Akane to swing the table at a _slightly_ different angle... and Ranma's neck broke with a crack. He lived, but was consigned to a wheelchair for the rest of his life and was disowned by his father immediately after the prognosis was made. At this point, the art was his life, and he sank into a deep depression, ending in suicide. On an enormous scale. She was tempted, for a moment, to figure out where he'd gotten the nukes that had taken him out, and all of Tokyo with him. Sailor Senshi included. Bad timeline.... naughty.

She pondered a moment over Jusenkyo and the surrounding areas but, suprisingly, what curse he had and what Amazon was after him had very little relevance to the big picture. The line where he'd actually drowned in one of the springs was even worse, as there were soon close to a dozen part-time Ranmas mucking up the works. Bad Juju. There was a far too good chance of Crystal Tokyo turning into Crystal Nerima if things went much further down that route.

How about a little further back? She ignored the way the Time gates, sensitive instruments not meant to be used for such a long span of time and for such intensive work, were beginning to dim. She'd only be a few more minutes after all, now that she'd found this.... the Nekoken.

With a little bit of prodding, Genma was convinced that it would be a better idea to use alley cats than pampered housebreeds. With a little more, he went out of his way to look for the ones that were foaming at the mouth, or especially vicious. Needless to say, Chibi-Ranma came out of it with a whole lot more than a few light scars and some mental trauma. He lost one leg below the knee, a couple fingers, an eyeball, and an ear. The rest of his body was a patchwork of scars. Bad enough that he'd survived, but as he grew up he became one of the leading scientists of the time. Eccentric as he was. Sailor Moon only had a few days worth of fighting off youma before he came out with a line of affordable 'Youma-repellants', pendants that emanated cross-interfering waves of energy that the creatures would flee screaming and clutching at their heads to avoid. Another couple of weeks of study, and the police were outfitted with guns similar to those in Men In Black that wouldn't damage anything but Youma but would tear through even the thickest dark energy forcefield with ease. She recorded a few minutes of that timeline.... Jadite's face was hilarious, just before it melted off. But this timeline was still a loss. The police, with effective weapons, became so efficient in their jobs that not even Mercury was awakened.

Hmm. Little tweak here... oh, that was almost as bad. A master of sorceries instead of sciences. Ranma ended up going to war with the dark armies of Mettalia by.... summoning up his own dark armies to combat them. An acquaintance, Sailor Moon, suddenly wasn't seeing the world in black and white anymore. This new shades-of-grey mentality said very bad things for Crystal Tokyo. She nipped this one in the bud before it could start.

No, it looked like a murder in infancy was the only way to go, here. She tried having him run down in the street as he played with his ball. Through a freak accident, the ball cushioned him and he came through it without a scratch.

Poison his food. He threw it against a wall and was sent to bed early. Genma got extra helpings and was sent to the hospital.

Toss him out of reality entirely. He was back within a week. Try again. Back again. Maybe third time is the charm? No?

Hmm. The only thing she hadn't tried was throwing him through time. But he caused problems no matter _when_ he was as well. Then, after several weeks without sleep due to having to monitor the changes, and with small hairline cracks running through the time gates themselves, she hit upon the perfect time and place to put the brat.

The Dark Kingdom, just moments before Serenity sealed it away from the rest of the world. If she couldn't count on hundreds of thousands of slowly starving Youma to finish this thorn in her side off _somewhere_ along the course of the millenia, then what could she count on? She grinned in triumph, and passed out, many long hours taking their toll. Incidentally, the cracks in the Time Gates grew exponentially and began releasing colored smoke as the image within went black.

Unfortunately for Setsuna, this new timeline would be in effect for long enough to be as good as set in stone before she awoke and saw the havoc that had begun.

xxx

Under most circumstances, most youma wouldn't even stop to think upon finding a young child in a basket any more than Genma would spare a moment to consider an abandoned bottle of good sake. It would be down the hatch and no more thought to it unless indigestion set in.

However, this wasn't most circumstances, and Quartz wasn't most youma.

Having found the child in question, 'Ranma', according to the stitching on the blanket wrapped around it, only mere moments after the Dark Kingdom was sealed, Quartz was one of the few rank and file youma who had the mental faculties to consider that it may well be the only available source of life energy until whenever it was that Beryl and Metallia broke that seal and they could gather it from the flocks of humanity outside. As such, it was only natural to bring it to the attention of the Generals and the Queen immediately.

They, at least, could work magics to make the young human produce more life energy than was natural, and extend its lifespan by many orders of magnitude, in case the breaking of that seal took longer than expected.

xxx

Unofficially, the boy's status was that of the only available food source for a legion of youma. He was well aware of this, and as a matter of fact made a point of having every drop of life energy he could spare extracted, often, for his own safety if nothing else.

It wasn't that he didn't trust them... all right, it was exactly that he didn't trust the hungry youma. The less energy he had floating through his spiritual 'veins' at any given time, the safer he was, because none of them would take the risk of killing him for what would effectively be a spare mouthful of food, when as long as he was alive he would be producing more.

Officially, he was a fifth general of Queen Beryl's forces, despite still being fully human and not going through any dark conversions or such whatnot. What was quietly ignored, but universally known, was that he was actually a far better general than most of the others.

Mainly, that was because the generals and the Queen had all gone mad, to a greater or lesser degree. Apparently, being wrenched from the outside world and locked up in an expanse of eternal darkness and evil miasma hadn't exactly agreed with their psyche. That or, Ranma privately suspected, that Metallia creature was slowly warping their psyche, perhaps even unintentionally. The theory had merit, despite the fact that Ranma had never, and would never, voice it aloud... after all, the Queen had gone loopiest, fastest, and she was the one in the most direct contact with Metallia and Ranma, who'd only seen the being once, was still pretty much sane.

As far as he knew. It wasn't like he had a lot of basis for comparison, after all.

Of course, also hadn't ever really been 'outside', that he could remember, so it could also just be that he adapted easier, as this place was all he'd ever known.

Ranma's train of thought was interrupted as a sharp tug somewhere in the vicinity of his lungs notified him that the Queen desired an audience with him. Not being able to access the dark powers that the other generals could, he couldn't teleport, and so was forced to break into an undignified dash, shifting his sword awkwardly to keep it from bouncing at the back of his knees and possibly tripping him up.

He loved that chunk of metal, really he did, but sometimes it was _such_ a nuisance.

He paused outside the courtroom for a moment, straightening his uniform and quickly re-tightening the tie in his hair before he stepped through the door, ignoring the shadowy illusions that Beryl had erected one day in a fit of boredom as he knelt before her throne.

She frowned slightly at him, obviously displeased with the time it had taken him to arrive despite that she knew full well of his limitations, and continued waving her hands around that ridiculous prop she'd gotten somewhere. It had no magical power of its own, of course, couldn't even be used to store energy in case of a sudden need, and making it float all the time the way she did taxed her severely, but even so she'd casually butchered the only youma to ever so much as look funny at the thing in her presence. She was crazy, but she was powerful and crazy, so all her subjects simply followed her whims without question at this point.

"You have finally answered my summons."

"Forgive me, my queen. I spared a moment outside the door, that I would not offend your eyes."

She nodded somberly, uncaring as to whatever excuse he might have to offer, but in a genial enough mood to let it lie.

"The seal is breaking." She stated calmly, as though she wasn't dropping the most monumenous piece of news since... actually, Ranma couldn't recall any information this important. The youma had been slowly starving, even with what he could give, and if the seal broke then there was a whole world of walking food out there.

He remained silent, waiting for Beryl to either request something or state what she wanted. Punishment for speaking out of turn was never pleasant, and could become truly dire depending on her mood. Even so, it was slightly more than a minute before she continued.

"Tell me... what is your opinion on how we should proceed, once that seal is gone for good?"

Ranma hesitated.

"If I may ask... have the other generals already given their opinions?"

"Indeed. Jadeite believes that we should strike immediately to gather the energy we so desperately need."

"I see." Translated, that meant that all four of the generals had had the same idea, if different in the details, and Jadeite was just the first one to voice his plan. "I... do not disagree with that aim. However, the execution..."

Beryl arched an eyebrow at him, and Ranma fell silent, just in case she wanted to say something.

"Continue." She drawled idly.

"Yes... It has been a very long time since we were first sealed away. We may well have been forgotten. Even so, simply going out and draining people will draw attention towards us that at this point we can ill afford. I agree with the need for energy, however we must be subtle."

"The senshi died at our sealing!" Beryl snarled, obviously not liking the way the conversation was going. Ranma cringed slightly, sensing a lot of pain in his near future if he wasn't careful.

"Of course, yes. Still, it has been a _very_ long time. Even with the senshi dead, there is no assurance that there will be no opposition to us." Ranme said quickly, seeming to mollify the Queen somewhat. "Rather than focusing on gathering energy at the first available opportunity, information is what we need. If, of course, the opportunity to gather energy unnoticed should arise as well then so be it, but the priority must be on gathering information on what enemies there may be."

The Queen's frown grew more pronounced, but she was obviously considering his words.

"Very well... you have made a valid point. Jadeite will follow his plan, and you shall follow yours, and we shall see who is correct by the results."

Ranma bowed deeply and waited for the Queen to dismiss him.

xxx

Despite that Beryl had made it seem like the seal was going to poof away at any moment, it was nearly two months after Ranma's audience with her before it deteriorated enough to no longer be stable and collapsed entirely. Jadeite, naturally, immediately grabbed the first available youma that could disguise itself and rushed off to implement his plans and prove himself somehow better than the upstart.

Ranma was more careful in his selections, picking out two youma from those who were more loyal to him than the other generals. Admittedly, that left him a fairly large chunk to choose from, as the fact that he was less likely to execute his soldiers for failures or minor mistakes had gotten around.

Still, his selections were the cream of the crop. While Jadeite's selection could keep up its facade for a day or two, as was standard, Ranma's would be able to maintain their transformations pretty much indefinitely, so long as they had the energy available. They were reasonably powerful as well, but the important thing was that they could remain undetected as they carried out their activities.

Ranma was all set to leave... when he suddenly remembered that he couldn't teleport. On top of that, the exit from the Dark Kingdom led to a very cold place that seemed to be many, many miles away from any form of civilization. Nothing if not adaptable, he quickly hashed out a deal with Nephrite. Teleportation and the creation of a fixed portal in exchange for a favor of equal or greater value, to be repaid at a later date. After the agreement was made, it was only the work of moments before they'd arrived in the city Jadeite had targeted.

At first, Ranma had been uncertain about targeting the same city, but that was before he saw it. It was, in a word, huge... a towering mass of brick and mortar, metal and stone. There were so many people crammed into its boundaries that it fairly glowed to him, his eyes having become sensitive to human energies at some point. It was incredible... simply walking through a place where there were so many humans would be enough to slowly satiate even the hungriest of youma, if they could control themselves enough to keep from assaulting people in a feeding frenzy.

Nephrite disappeared to deal with his end of the deal... finding an out of the way corner where nobody would look and find a portal wasn't exactly going to be the simplest of tasks... leaving Ranma and his two servants to their own devices.

"Sandstone, Obsidian." He ordered. "Familiarize yourselves with the area, we rendevous back here in twenty minutes. Draw no undue attention to yourselves"

They nodded and left, leaving him alone to wonder once more at the teeming mass of humanity before him.

It wasn't long before Nephrite returned, handing him a sheaf of papers.

"You are now the proud owner of a small house just on the border between two sections of this city, complete with en suite bathroom, toilet, kitchen, spare bedroom, and a portal to the Dark Kingdom taking up closetspace." He said, smugly, as the youma began to return.

"Do I... want to know how you aquired these?" Ranma asked, flipping.

"Probably not. Just remember the favor you owe me... and count yourself fortunate that I won't call it in for the sort of things certain other generals of our acquaintance would."

Ranma nodded... in truth, that was exactly the reason he'd gone to Nephrite first. It was no secret that two of the generals were lovers... in fact, with how steadily more kinky, perverse, and exhibitionist their tendencies had begun you'd have to look a long time indeed to find anyone who wasn't aware that Kunzite and Zoicite were an 'item'.

An open item, apparently, given how often they tried to drag one of the other generals into their little games over the centuries. Becoming indebted to either one of them was simply the _last_ thing Ranma ever intended to do, preceded directly by plucking out his own eyes and jumping into an active volcano. If the lovebirds were still interested in what was left of him after that...

"One more word of advice to the junior general." Nephrite continued. "Jadeite is already working in what's apparently the Juuban district, and he's always been very... territorial. I'd suggest you look into other areas."

Nephrite tossed a folded up map, that Ranma somehow doubted had been paid for, and teleported away, leaving Ranma to revise his plans. The 'x' marked where his house was, according to the note. One side of that was Juuban district, which had been claimed by the senior general. The other was....

He folded up the map and tucked it away, resolving to investigate this 'Nerima' district.

xxx

A.N. Just because.

I've always held that the way the Dark Kingdom went about conquering the world really sucked. There are a lot of theories about WHY it sucked, and heres mine. The commanders in charge are, quite simply, nuts. Cuckoo. Rationally impaired. In dire need of a jacket with wraparound sleeves. In short, clinically insane.

They may not show it in battle situations, but their decisions definitely smack of either incompetence or insanity, and they did bring the entire moon kingdom place to its knees at one point. I find it simpler to believe that they just cracked somewhere between being imprisoned and breaking out.

And yes, if I write this, the generals and Beryl are going to get a heck of a lot of noncanon eccentricies.


	8. Naruto, Reserve

Reserve

xxx

Sarutobi frowned deeply as he looked at the list of graduating Genin. He was proud of Naruto, really he was, but the boy had unfortunately complicated things this year.

Without Naruto's addition, there had been twenty-seven graduating genin, dividing out evenly into nine teams. Nine already arranged teams, to be more to the point. While he could probably track down the scroll that had been shipped through the vast, interconnected web of paperwork-ninja and edit it before it recieved the requisite signatures from the involved Jounin-sensei, it would be a risky gamble. If even so much as one signature aside from his had been applied, then there would be nothing he could do.

Further complicating matters was the question of just which Jounin it had been delivered to first. On one end of the scale was Kakashi, who would certainly have left the thing for several hours before even looking at it, which would be the best situation as it would mean he had another hour or two to track him down. On the other end of the spectrum was Kurenai, who would have dutifully signed the document and passed it along the moment she recieved it. While that would be a good thing under normal circumstances, in these it was the worst possible.

Really, given the current time, the only way he would be able to edit the teams at this point was to bank on the scroll being sent to Kakashi first. A one in nine chance at the very best... almost every other Jounin would have long since signed.

Sighing, Sarutobi finally gave in to the odds. On the other hand, it was well within Iruka's rights to pass Naruto, given the situation, and it wasn't like the boy didn't deserve to be Genin. In fact, he'd originally planned to put him on Kakashi's team, and had had to scramble to fill the hole when he'd failed again to create normal bunshin. Even so...

Sarutobi considered, then discarded the idea of making Naruto into the apprentice of a single Jounin. The council wouldn't approve. The ninja portion would back his decision, if reluctantly, but the roughly equal civilian portion would flat-out refuse, insisting that such an honor would have to go to the Uchiha first, and then to any other genin before Naruto.

Unfortunate, but the details of the seal were classified, and even if he could have explained things properly and in full, unflinching detail to the civilians they would likely close their eyes and minds to the truth. A pity. Only Naruto himself would eventually be able to change their opinion of him, it seemed.

There was really only one option left, when it was thought out logically. And really, it had been the most likely scenario from the beginning, after all. Kakashi hadn't ever passed a team, so there was no reason to assume that pattern would change.

No, rather than being trained in a small, cohesive squad, it seemed that Naruto was going to be joining the much larger reserve ninja forces of the village.

xxx

A.N. Just a quickshot. This isn't anywhere near the length this should be, but it's only a preview of the first chapter. Which is why it's going here.


	9. Bleach, Nature of Duality

Nature of Duality

xxx

The change had begun. But even as the mask began to form, excreting itself from every orofice of his head, eyes, ears, mouth, even from the very pores of Ichigo's skin, Kisuke Uruhara couldn't quite bring himself to order the attack. He couldn't believe, refused to believe, that at the very end of Ichigo's struggle he would just lie back and allow himself to become a Hollow.

And so he hesitated, even as his subordinates prepared to leap into action, wondering just what was going on in Ichigo's head.

xxx

The world was crumbling around him and boxes were falling as he frantically scanned for the one that contained Shinigami power. Ichigo knew full well that he would only have a single chance at this... screw up, grab the wrong box, and it would all be over. There had to be some way... something that would tell him which the right box was, but there was no time...!

_'Red'_ came a quiet whisper, drifting through the world like a snowflake in a soft breeze.

Ichigo's conscious mind latched on the word, ignoring the old man's look of surprise. That was right... hadn't that Ishida mentioned something about that while he was bragging? The color of a Shinigami's spiritual power... it was red! Ichigo extended his awareness, taking in the threads of power, seeking through them for the single one that was of a different color. He found it, and grasped hold of that thread, wrenching it to himself and drawing the box it was attached to closer to him.

It cracked open, revealing the prize inside.

"This is... The hilt of a Zanpakuto? Then... could you be...?"

"What are you waiting for!" The old man yelled. "This world is crumbling... pull me out, or you'll become a Hollow!"

Ichigo shook off his questions and wrenched the blade free of its resting place, dissappearing in a flash of light to the real world. Zangetsu took a moment to look around, surveying the damage that had come to a sudden halt and was now slowly beginning to rebuild itself.

"So... why?"

"Did I help?" the voice came again, but closer to a normal tone. "That's because... I felt like it. No more, and no less."

"Hmph." Zangetsu snorted as the newcomer to Ichigo's mindscape revealed itself. "And the fact that those people are perfectly willing and able to kill us if it looks bad... that played no part in your decision, I bet. Besides... He would have remembered on his own."

"Maybe so." The hollow shrugged. "And maybe not. I acted to ensure our survival... that's all."

xxx

They felt constricted... pain, as strange needles stabbed into their chest and shoulder. Danger! Something from above threatened them!

They tore through the wrappings binding them and leapt, the world around them a blur as they bounced off he falling monolith above them and came to land well away from the pit, hungry, wary, and confused. Dust had been blasted around their form and was slowly settling, and they could feel others nearby. Strong others.

With a light shiver they stood, and then they were Ichigo.

"A shinigami's robe... and a mask. So, which....?"

Ichigo drew his broken sword, and the boy ceased speech as he dropped into a defensive stance beside the quiet girl. But instead of attacking, Ichigo slammed the pommel of the sword into his own face, cracking the mask enough that he could peel it off.

"Ahahaha!" Uruhara broke out laughing, whipping his fan out to cover his state of relief and pretending everything had gone exactly as expected. "Well done Ichigo! You have successfully become a Shini-gwaah! My eyes!"

Ichigo had, without warning, slammed the hilt of his sword into Uruaha's forehead.

"Shut up, Sandal-hat! While I was down there... I made a promise to myself. 'If I get out of this alive, I will... no, _must_ KILL YOU!'"

All in all, everything was pretty much normal again, and Ichigo quickly forgot about the strange voice and the wierd haze that had come over him.

xxx

A.N.

Little tweak to Ichigo's inner Hollow thing. The way I understand it, Hollows are pretty much all instinct so with just a tweak, shifting the majority of Ichigo's hollow from 'Kill' instincts to survival instincts, and it would be more than happy to help Ichigo in certain battles, if only to keep the both of them alive.

It probably still wouldn't turn down an opportunity to take control of the body for good, and might demand a concession or two, now and again. They can 'tag team', one fighting while the other rests, and switch out to take on much stronger opponents. Actually, now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure I've seen a very similar fic somewhere. Oh well. Might write this eventually anyway, just for the hell of it.


	10. Ranma, SM, Bun Fu Fighting

Bun Fu Fighting

xxx

Ranma Saotome. Many things in the eyes of many people. Powerful. Honorable. Cowardly. Sneaky. Fiendish. Unintelligent. A Sap. Baka. A Perverted Don Juan. Enemy-Of-All-Women. Possibly Brain-Damaged. A Battle-Maniac. Many of these things are only correct from one point of view, and some of them outright contradict each other. But there was one thing that Ranma Saotome was that could not be denied, despite the fact that nobody had realized it yet.

And that was Dead.

"This... this sucks."

**"Thems the breaks, kid."**

"I mean... I figured that her cooking would kill me sooner or later, yeah, but I always assumed that it would be a way further down the line. And from me actually eating it."

**"This is definitely going on the top ten list of weirdest food-related deaths I've encountered. I'm thinking number four... maybe five."**

"What could be weirder than being stabbed to death by a turkey dinner?"

**"You would be surprised... actually, have you ever seen that old movie 'The Blob'?"**

"Nnnoo.... can't say I have."

**"Well, suffice to say that young miss Akane is **_**not**_** the worst cook in the world."**

The conversation stopped as the door slid open and Akane herself walked into the room and screamed, attracting the attention of everyone in the house.

"And that... that's just not fair. I scream in horror and pain, and everyone ignores me. _Akane_ screams, and everyone shows up in seconds. Drops what they're doing even. If someone had come when _I_ yelled... And of course, one whack with Mallet-sama reduces the turkey to paste. That just..."

**"Meh. Life sucks kid."**

"Yeah... so. Is this when I...?"

**"Depends... but I wouldn't advise it. Cross over now and... well, the Anything Goes school has built up a whole lot of bad Karma. So, for that matter, have the Saotome's. So much so, that just by being born into the wrong family and practicing Anything Goes regularly, you've picked up enough bad Karma that..."**

Death paused and removed a calculator from his tattered black robes. He punched a few buttons, nodded, punched some more, then seemed to frown.

**".... Well, if you crossed over now, you'd be stuck in hell for the next twelve billion years or so. What good karma you've managed to accumulate for yourself personally would alleviate that somewhat..."** insert another few button presses here. **"... but not nearly enough."**

Ranma noted that while they were talking, the surroundings had faded into a uniform silver mist.

"So... that's it then? I'm going to be stuck in hell for... how long?"

**"Not quite. You see, there are alternatives that I'm sure you'd prefer. You couldn't help being born, or who you were born to, and so the bosses take that into account. Your file also shows that you really didn't have much of a choice in which school you practiced either. So you've got a couple options. You can stick around as a ghost, you can cross over despite knowing you'll end up in hell, or... you could try reincarnation."**

"That last one sounds... interesting. But, uh... don't I forget everything? I don't think I like that idea."

**"If you would prefer to remember, that can be arranged. Of course with the memories would come all the accumulated bad Karma... but maybe this would be better. We arrange for you to slowly recall important bits and pieces of your past life. Bits that don't involve bad Karma. You'll still remember the gist of your past life after a while, just... not all of it. On the other hand, you'll have a lot easier time keeping your Karma levels 'in the black', so to speak."**

"Hmm... yeah... that sounds nice, I guess..."

**"And I probably shouldn't have to mention this, but once you reincarnate, every curse you managed to pick up over your lifetime will be gone. Including that incident at Jusenkyo-"**

"SOLD!"

Death shrugged and waved a bony hand. Ranma dissolved into motes of sparkling light and floated away, to be reborn in a fitting form as Death moved on to speak with his next 'client'.

xxx

There was darkness and nothingness, as Ranma felt his memories being stripped away from him. He fought, knowing that many of them would be returned, but many of them would be lost forever.

And he wanted to remember it all, if only for a little while longer.

Then there was warmth, and light, and he could feel them slipping out of his mental grasp as he was born.

He was Ranma Saotome, Heir of the Saotome school of... of...

He was Ranma Saotome, engaged to....

He was Ranma Saoto... Ranma Sao... Ranma... Ran... He... he was....

"Congradulations, Usagi-hime, It's a healthy young girl. And the name?"

"Usagi... the second. Isn't that right... Chibi-Usa?"

As the last of his memories left him, Chibi-Usa began bawling at the top of her lungs for no apparent reason.

xxx

A.N. Just a quick little teaser of an idea that's been niggling at me for a while.


	11. NGE, Berserker

Berserker

xxx

It stomped slowly towards its goal, like a reject from an old Godzilla movie. And like those movies, all attempts to stop it had proven to be in vain. Countless bullets had struck it, without effect. Missiles had been launched, but not even slowed the thing down as it continued steadily onward, smashing the buildings in its way.

"Forget the budget! Kill that thing! Kill it now!"

"It will have no effect." Gendo stated, voice carrying to everyone in the room despite their state of panic. "Conventional weapons will have no effect against the Angel's AT field. Only NERV can battle the Angel with any hope of success."

He left, brushing off the fact that he was ignored and knowing they would see the truth for themself soon enough. Before he was far enough away that he couldn't make out the seperate voices arguing anymore, he picked up one last sentence.

"Launch the N2 mine!"

xxx

Shinji glanced down at the photo in his hand and blushed lightly. He couldn't help it, he was a young male after all, and the photo was decidedly... suggestive. He forced the blush down and returned to memorizing the woman's face.

Meanwhile, the woman in the photo, Misato, was cursing up a storm. This day had started up so well... The third child would arrive, she'd bring him in to NERV, they'd explain about the Evas and run the sales pitch, and so long as they could keep Gendo away long enough the kid would probably agree to pilot unit 01.

Then the Angel had decided to attack.

Misato pressed a little harder on the gas pedal. Its timing seemed a little too convienient... almost like it knew that the first child was injured and they didn't have the third on standby yet... like it had been planning and waiting for such an occurrence...

She shook the chills that thought left her with off. Not possible. There was no way the Angel could have known... its timing was simply incredibly unfortunate. What was important was finding the third child and... and there he was, watching the Angel smash buildings with an odd little half grin on his face.

She slammed on the brakes, spinning the car fully around twice before coming to a full stop and kicking open the door.

"Shinji Ikari, get in the car."

"Ah... You would be Misato-san from-"

"Just get in the car... we're already late as it is."

He shrugged, still smiling. As he got in the car and Misato slammed on the gas, taking off towards the geofront like a bat out of hell, he lazily lifted a finger to point at the giant monstrosity that was Sachiel.

"I wonder what that thing is?"

"Huh... the Angel?"

"Angel? What is-"

His question was cut off as Misato noticed something that made her eyes widen.

"SHIT! They're going to use an N2 mine!"

"What's an-" Shinji began, before he slammed backwards into the seat from the speed of the car suddenly approaching something like warp factor seven. He felt his eyeballs pushing into the back of his head.

"Tunnel tunnel... where the hell is that tunnel... There!"

In a fantastic show of timing, Misato managed to enter the tunnel at almost exactly the same time as the Nonnuclear mine connected with Sachiel and exploded.

Misato sighed in relief and let up slightly on the gas, dropping the speedometer back barely below three digits. She still had payments to make on this car.

xxx

Shinji blinked and stared at what Misato and Ritsuko had brought him to take a look at. A giant purple robot. He began flipping rapidly through the NERV guidebook.

"You won't find anything about the Evangelion in your handbook, Ikari-kun."

He shrugged and returned his creepy half-smile to his face.

"So... this is what father has been working on for the past ten years?"

"Correct."

"And I suppose you want me to pilot it."

It was a statement, not a question, and Gendo answered bluntly.

"If I did not, I would not have called you here. Will you pilot Unit 01 or not?"

Shinji paused, apparently considering the prospect.

"And if I declined this... honor?"

The door opened and a medic staff brought in a girl on a stretcher.

"The third child is worthless. Prepare Unit 00 for Rei."

Gendo smirked inwardly. Things were still going as planned. Confronted with the broken body of Rei, and knowing full well that if he refused to pilot, Gendo would have no qualms about sending her out in his place, Shinji would have no choice but to pilot.

Shinji held up one hand.

"I never said I _would_ decline. I merely wished to know the repercussions of declining, should there be any. Now... let's talk pay."

"You will pilot the Eva for the glory of being the savior of the human race."

"Ah. A noble goal. But no. I will pilot the Eva in exchange for a weekly stipend of one hundred fifty thousand yen and a bonus for every Angel I destroy matching that of miss Ritsuko's monthly paycheck."

Gendo considered. The third child was demanding pay. That had not been in the scenario. Still, it did not deviate too far... but simply assenting to his request didn't sit well.

"Ten thousand a week, with a bonus of ten thousand yen per Angel."

The air grew silent and tense between the two. A beam fell from the cieling, directly above the both of them, and was deflected by Unit 01 before it returned to a stationary position. Nobody noticed. Then the bargaining began in earnest.

"One hundred thirty thousand a week, and a kill bonus of one hundred fifty thousand."

"Ten thousand a week, and a bonus of fifteen thousand per Angel."

This continued for several minutes, and the bystanders began to panic as the Angel stomped closer and closer to the NERV Geofront. Even so, they couldn't turn away from the two making offers and counter offers several times a minute, neither of whose facial structure had changed an iota during the fierce section. Finally, it came to a close.

"Fifty thousand a week, an Angel kill-bonus of one hundred thousand, and a pardon, in advance, for any crimes I may or may not end up committing during the duration that I am the assigned pilot for Eva unit 01."

Gendo considered for a moment. This was a very reasonable demand, compared to where they'd started, and it wasn't like the third child could do anything _too_ bad. The way he'd ensured he'd been brought up, the worst he might do would be to trip in the Eva and accidentally take out a building or two.

"Deal."

For a moment, a dark cast came over Shinji's face, turning his bland half-smile into an evil smirk as something flashed within his eyes and left Gendo wondering whether he had made such a good deal after all. Then it was gone, and he couldn't tell whether or not he'd imagined the brief flash.

"It seems, miss Ritsuko, that you have approximately three minutes to tell me how to pilot unit 01 before the target arrives."

xxx

"His synch ratio is.... 2?"

"Well I suppose we couldn't have expected much more... after all, this is his first time in-"

"Holy shit!"

"Eh?"

"His synch ratio is skyrocketing! 24... 33... 49... 61...59? It dropped? No, now it's up to 72! And down again! His synch ratio is chaotic! It's all over the place, and makes no sense!"

Gendo's cold voice cut into the scientist's muttered conversation.

"The third child's synch ratio is irrelevant so long as it remains above baseline. Ignore it."

Sweating heavily, the two techies averted their eyes from the boy's synch ratio, which was now apparently switching between numbers at random, and continued at their job.

"Eva Launch!"

The giant purple unit 01 rose slowly to the ground as Sachiel stood waiting politely. There was a buzzing noise, and Ritsuko's voice came over the frequency.

"Alright Shinji, moving the Eva should be like moving your body, so first just try to walk."

The Eva didn't move.

"Shinji, come on, just put one foot in front of the other. Baby steps..."

It still didn't move, and visuals showed that Shinji's head had fallen with his chin pressed into his chest, as though he'd passed out under the pressure. Not good. Then a single word drifted from Shinji's side of the controls.

"Die."

Unit 01 surged into motion, directly at the Angel. It stood there like a dummy, just waiting, perhaps not realizing that the purple behemoth would be able to hurt it. Then both the Eva's arms swung around and slammed into either side of its head, shattering the Angel's AT field like a thin sheet of glass. There was an audible crunching noise.

The Angel staggered slightly backwards, but Unit 01 continued its lunge, grabbing it by something approximating the shoulders and slamming its head into the Angel's. Twice. A third time. It released its hold, and the Angel staggered and fell back as Shinji shoved it.

It fell to the ground, and Unit 01's foot began to grind its head into the ground.

"DIE!"

Angel blood splattered in every direction as its head flattened completely. Inside the Eva, Shinji frowned as he noted that his opponent was still wriggling, and glanced around. Sure he had that knife... but why bother with it when there was a perfectly good steel lamppost right there. He reached over and easily tore it out of the ground before slamming it repeatedly into the Angel's twitching form. The head was regenerating. He stomped it into paste again.

He stepped back to admire his handiwork. The Angel was pretty much spread thinly across the ground like a squashed bug, but was slowly regenerating. Interestingly enough, it seemed to be fixing its legs twice as fast as the rest of itself. As though it wanted them back more than it wanted the rest.

Then there was the red sphere, which he'd assumed was a weak point. He'd avoided it for just that reason. Now though, there was no point in not finishing the creature off, and the red haze had already begun to fade.

He removed the prog knife from its shoulder holster and slashed through the red sphere in the same move.

The explosion caught him completely by surprise.

xxx

Gendo hid his emotions well, behind a solid mask of indifference. However, if one would look close enough, they would see that his eyes had widened almost a full millemeter at his son's display.

"What the hell happened out there?"

"Did the Eva go berserk?"

"No... no way... Pilot Ikari was in full control of the Eva at all times. Everything we just saw out there... that was all him."

"My God..."

Left unspoken was the question, Is insanity hereditary? After all, that would explain so much...

_'This... was not in the scenario.'_

xxx

Shinji's eyes snapped open to an unfamiliar ceiling. He sat up and frowned.

"It committed suicide before I could finish it off. Does that count, I wonder?"

He considered for a minute, then the creepy half-smile returned to his face.

"On the other hand, it wasn't in much of a position to do anything except try to take me out with it, so I'll mark it as half a point and make a note to kill the rest faster."

He sat up and tugged the IV drip out of his arm, ignoring the sharp stabbing pain as he stood up and glanced down at himself. Completely naked. Not good. He glanced around the room, then at the door. Someone was standing on the other side of it, judging by the scuffling of feet and occasional cough.

He stepped to the door and quietly opened it, reflecting that the guard that had been set here really sucked. He was just standing there, back to the door. He didn't even move, although it was possible that he simply wasn't experienced enough to feel the slight shift in air currents as the door behind him opened silently. He was also roughly Shinji's height and weight, odd, as he was a grown man and Shinji only fourteen.

Really, he was just begging for it.

Shinji's hand darted out to grab the guard by the right side of his head, slamming it into the doorjamb with enough force to instantly knock him out. Good chance that he'd be brain damaged too. Shinji didn't care, as he swiped the spot of blood from where the skin over the guard's temple had broken off the wall and dragged him into the room before closing the door and stripping him bare. Then he tied him up and gagged him with medical tape, plopped him on the bed, and tossed the blanket over him. At a casual glance, it would look like Shinji had just tugged the blanket over himself as he slept.

Shinji couldn't say he _liked_ the clothes... a cheap black suit and sunglasses... but it was better than trying to sneak out of the hospital in that assless paper robe. Not that he couldn't manage it, but it might have been tricky.

Now.... what to do next?

xxx

A.N.

A Shinji driven by... enlightened self interest, with little in the way of morality and ethics, and while untrained in any real form of combat, having enough raw aggresion and adrenaline to make up for the lack, when you put a giant robot behind his punches.

So, in this case, the apple didn't fall as far from the tree?


	12. HP, Grim

He'd been walking for hours. He should have known right away that being offered the chance to tour America with the Dursleys while they went on vacation had been too good to be true, but he'd tamped down his instincts in favor of deluding himself that the offer had been made out of the genuine kindness of their hearts. That, combined with the alternative of staying with the crazy cat lady that lived down the street had made his decision pretty quickly.

Of course, he still hadn't yet quite grasped the concept that if something happened that was too good to be true, it usually was. He'd probably have been infinitely better off with Mrs. Figg and her twenty cats.

He squinted, holding up a numb hand to peer through the pouring sheets of rain. Were those houses over there? Maybe. Every so often he could see a spark of sunlight through the thick clouds overhead, but it was only barely enough to let him know it was daytime. Teach him to fall asleep while someone else was driving... he'd woken up face-down in a muddy ditch off the side of an empty road.

And to add insult to injury, all the candy that he'd smuggled out of Dudley's stash was gone, leaving him with empty pockets in the middle of nowhere. He sneezed, launching his too-large glasses off onto the sidewalk by the road. He was coming down with a cold, too.

There _were_ houses, he noted as he dropped to his knees and scrambled for his glasses. The rain was starting to let up enough for him to tell that he was in the middle of a suburb somewhere. He was too tired and cold and wet to care much about the details.

Someone carefully set his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. He looked up, following the trail of the arm to the body it was attached to.

He saw golden horns.

"Welcome to Endsville."

xxx

That had been about six months ago. Harry _still_ didn't know what had prompted Mandy to drag him out of the rain and into her home. He'd learned enough about her to know that altruism wasn't exactly a defining facet of her personality. She wasn't kind. She simply didn't do things out of the goodness of her heart. All of the pink and bright flowers were like a form of deceptive camoflauge, hiding a poisonous viper. Her own _parents_ were terrified of her, which was actually a good thing because it meant that they didn't put up a fuss over his moving in.

So why then?

She'd taken him in, fed him, gotten him clothes and a pile of cushions to sleep on, and so far hadn't asked anything of him in return. And while the clothes were secondhand and cushions on the floor at the foot of Mandy's bed might cause some to turn their nose up, Harry had only ever worn Dudleys castoffs before, and slept on the bare floor under a thin sheet in the cupboard under the stairs. For him, it was like a little slice of paradise.

And he couldn't help but wonder what prices he'd end up paying for it.

xxx

A.N.

Another teaser, yay!


	13. HP, Bleach, Perils of Summoning II

Two weeks.

Two _freaking_ weeks he'd been stuck here, forced to make nice with what were supposedly alternate dimensional versions of his parents and their bevy of sprogs.

Granted, his dislike of them probably tied heavily into the fact that he had been unwillingly torn from his home dimension and bound to the will of a person who looked identical to, actually _was_ in fact, his most hated adversary of all time.

Yeah, there was some small stress there. Of course compounding that was the fact that they refused to let him go and _do what they had summoned him specifically to do_! It was completely illogical. If they weren't going to let him hunt down and kill this Voldemort person so he could go home, they shouldn't have summoned him in the first place.

Completely aside from that, he was starting to get antsy, wondering if he was beginning to rust because _of course_ there weren't proper facilities here for Shinigami training and the only 'wizard' who knew anything about swordsmanship, some Snape person, flatly refused to spar with him after the first time.

So Harry'd impaled him a little. What was a little nick or two to the internal organs among friends?

The whole incident had left the majority of the Potters, James included, swinging rapidly between hero-worship and abject terror of him.

Then he realized.

xxx

"You're trying to make me form attachments to these people." He growled at the bearded old man. Dumbledore sighed deeply in response.

"Is that so wrong?" He mused. "They are... well, they could have been your family, lad."

Harry's face twists and settles.

"The point is, they arent. Now I'm sick of waiting- tell me where my target is."

"So bloodthirsty, my boy." Harry frowned again. "There is a great deal of anger simmering in you. I cannot, in good conscience-"

"Did it not once occur to you that the grand majority of that anger you are so worried about is simply due to my being here and not wanting to be? Or that once I'd returned home, it would dissipate?"

"I... see." Dumbledore mumbled. "I must admit, I had hoped you would settle in with the Potters. Young men such as yourself need family, after all. I suppose..."

"Don't try to change the subject, you-" Harry stopped suddenly, mid invecture as he worked something out. "'Lad'. 'My boy'. 'Young men, such as yourself'." He mused before breaking out into laughter. "This... this is gold. You honestly think you're older than me?"

Dumbledore was struck completely dumb.

"Young man, I am roughly a century and a half old."

"Over three hundred." Harry countered smugly, striking Dumbledore dumb again. "There seems to be some differences in our timelines. _My_ parents were born in the sixteen hundreds, and I _died_ shortly before the seventeen hundreds. When your counterpart ordered me executed, remember?"

"I... do recall something of the sort among your ranting upon arrival." Dumbledore admitted. "I assumed, however, as you seem to be in good health, that you escaped death somehow."

"Nope. One hundred percent hung by the neck until dead, I'm afraid. Then I got to hang around as a ghost for a while... that sucked, to tell you the truth. Floating around, unable to interact with anything. But _then_ the shinigami came and collected me to soul society, and after a few decades of working at it I managed to get into their academy. And now, I'm an unseated rank and file member of the eleventh division of Shinigami of soul society."

Dumbledore stared for a moment.

"I'm afraid you lost me after becoming a ghost."

"Alright, put a way you can understand... dead, ghost, then afterlife, and now I'm something like a very minor god."

"Humble too." Dumbledore mumbled, having privately decided that Harry was lying his ass off in an attempt to gain respect.

"Believe me or not, as is your prerogative boyo. I just want to kill this Voldemort person so that I can get back to my duties."

"Duties?"

"Delivering lost souls to the afterlife, cleansing evil souls and sending them to the afterlife, making Zaraki-taicho get his paperwork dealt with... None of your business really. Stop trying to distract me."

Dumbledore sighed again.

"To tell the truth, we do not know exactly where he is. He-"

"You're worthless to me then, and should have said so in the first place. Would have saved the both of us a lot of time."

Harry stalked out of the room, leaving Dumbledore temporarily guilty over his little white lie. It was true that they didn't know _exactly_ where Voldemort was. They had, however, pared it down to a small area in little Hangleton. Harry could, Dumbledore had no doubt, draw Voldemort out from there but it would involve a long drawn out battle with many deaths.

Much better to simply bide their time and wait.

The next morning, the old man nearly choked to death on a lemon drop when the Daily Prophet was delivered. Harry had purchased a full page for the purposes of grievously insulting and calling out the Dark Lord to battle.

xxx

Harry arrived at the stated place at the stated time, an abandoned building site off of Diagon alley. As expected, there were curious people watching from a respectful distance. As expected, he didn't have to wait long before Voldemort himself arrived, less ugly than his imagination, fueled by experience with Hollows, had led him to believe but still hideous. Also as expected, he had brought over two dozen of his followers with him.

"So... you are the arrogant little whelp who dares cast aspersions upon the name of Lord Voldemort. What is your name?"

"None of your concern, soon-to-die."

"I see. A pity, that you shall rest in an unmarked grave. Kill him."

Before the Death eaters began to even twitch their wands Harry had his sword out and limbs had begun to fly. Within a span of moments only he and a wide-eyed Voldemort remained.

"Not so worthless a runt after all, then? Even so, a fool to challenge the might of Lord Voldemort... Avada Kedavra."

The beam of green light slammed through the patch of air where Harry's torso had been just a moment ago. Being already dead, he wasn't sure what effect the killing curse would have on him, but he had no intention of finding out. Time to get serious.

"Crash down from thy stormy abode, Rakurai!"

There was a brilliant flash as his Shikai awoke.

Dumbledore arrived minutes later, to find Harry minutely inspecting a horrific specter that seemed frozen in midair. Then, nodding to himself, he slammed the pommel of his sword into where the head of the thing should be and it howled as it disintegrated into sparkling motes of light.

He blinked, and was alone in a sea of blood and limbs, the summoning having worn off as its terms were fulfilled.

It wasn't until several months later that he discovered that the word 'Shinigami' translated directly to 'God of Death'.

xxx

A.N. Does this just make this a two-shot? or is there more to come? You'll have to wait and wonder, I'm afraid.


	14. Bun Fu, Chapter 2

_"Papa?" The boy said, looking up from his finger painting. "Why do I have'ta learn to fight?"_

_"You don't want to?" The bulky man said, face oddly obscured. "I suppose not. Nobody really wants to learn to fight, at least at first. When you learn to fight, it means that you're accepting that you might have to fight, and that means you run the risk of being hurt."_

_The boy nodded rapidly._

_"Wanna be a painter!"_

_"I'm sure you do." The father replied with a wry chuckle. "But you're young yet. You still have all the time in the world to decide on things. Even so... I will be teaching you the family school of combat. You will learn it. Whether you choose to regularly practice it after my lessons have finished... well, that's entirely up to you, isn't it. But it's my hope that you will come to see the martial arts the way I do, that you will learn to take pride in that ability, and use my teachings properly. If you remember nothing else of this discussion, son, then remember this. It is the duty of a martial artist to defend those too weak to defend themselves. There is a certain honor in that."_

_The last couple of sentences had begun to take on an echoey quality, as though the man was speaking from the bottom of a well, and the world blurred._

xxx

_Crystal Tokyo, Six Hundred and Seventh year of the Neo-Queen Serenity's Ascendance-_

Chibi-Usa awoke with a start, heart pounding in her ears and sheets damp with sweat. It had been one of those _dreams_ again.

She didn't know why they came, or who the boy who featured so prominently in them was, or why they were so sporadic. She might have two, or even three of them a night, or it might be weeks or even months of uninterrupted sleep in between them. There was really no way of telling beforehand whether a given night would bring one of those dreams or not.

She was inexplicably fascinated with the boy, although she couldn't really say why. It wasn't love or infatuation. Despite her age, and that of the boy in her dreams', she hadn't ruled it out at first, but only after many long hours of contemplation and sleepless nights. No, these dreams were nothing so simple as puberty hitting early, and the strange way she felt drawn to that boy was no simple physical attraction. It was something else entirely, on both counts, she simply didn't know what.

She'd entertained, briefly, the possibility that the dreams were some hint of a malign force of some kind attempting to gain footholds in her mind for possession. Unfortunate as the idea was, it would have explained several things... the random-seeming nature of the dreams, if there was some other intelligence behind them, attempting to either smash its way inside, or wait for her to relax and drop her defenses, as well as why she would always wake tired and sweaty, as though she'd been struggling against something.

She had quickly proven the idea false, however, after approaching her mother with tales of a 'nightmare' and bringing her worries of nocturnal possession to her attention, then being laughingly assured that there were many, many defenses against just such things built into the castle walls themselves, and more in the walls of her nursery, and later bedroom besides, and so there was no need to worry.

It had been with both relief and confusion that Chibi-Usa had accepted the information as fact.

What _were_ they then, those snippets of the life of someone she'd never met? She didn't even have a name or face to put to the boy, as any identifying features in the dreams were blurred, and names were never given.

The princess slowly drifted back to sleep, these weighty thoughts clouding her mind. Another dream came, and the comforting, fatherly man was now the boy's brutal taskmaster, and she witnessed pain such as she had never felt herself, as the boy was toughened, and shown harsh realities of the world.

It was horrible. Why was it like this? None of the other dreams had been like this? Why did she have to see such things? Crystal Tokyo had been a peaceful utopia for centuries! She didn't need.... She didn't need this!

And at the same time, as the boy intruded in the mugging of a middle-aged salaryman, chasing off a trio of street punks and recieving only a wary retreat from the man he'd defended, she _wanted_. Even as she didn't understand why, even as she gagged, as any sort of crime had been nonexistent since shortly after Crystal Tokyo's birth, even as she recognized that there would be no fathomable purpose, no need...

Chibi-Usa _wanted_ that. She wanted to know what that boy had felt on saving that man, firsthand. She wanted some sense of purpose, aside from being the princess of a utopia and spending all her many days being spoiled by a queen-mother who would never die a natural death, and so never pass on her crown. It was like a fire suddenly burning inside her, filling a spot that she had never before realized was cold and empty.

She wanted. And so she made the request of her queen-mother that very morning.

Neo-Queen Serenity was not at all pleased with the sudden and inexplicable desire. Why on earth should her precious little daughter make such a request, when by all means she should be dressing up her dollies, or having silly little tea parties with stuffed animals? Why not direct herself to a more appropriate pursuit for a princess? Needlework, or... something. Something suitably feminine, that Usagi had never quite succeeded at herself, when she had still been a normal young woman.

The Neo-Queen, though she didn't admit it even to herself, had not borne her daughter to secure a royal heir. She didn't do it simply for a love of children, else she would have had many siblings, or as an ultimate declaration of love by bearing Endymion's child. No, the most selfish of reasons had been behind Chibi-Usa's conception. Neo-Serenity had borne a daughter, simply so she could live vicariously through her, ensuring that she grew in the lap of luxury, the pampered, sweet princess that Usagi herself had always daydreamed of being.

And her little princess wanted to learn to _fight_? Why? No. No, there was no need for such a thing. This was simply a phase of some sort that her sweet little baby would outgrow in a year or two.

Chibi-Usa was persistent, however, and would not be denied, especially as the dreams continued to come, showing more and more brief glimpses, and igniting further and further depths of that hunger within. Eventually, the Neo-Queen gracefully surrendered, allowing the pastime.

Save that she had very purposefully misinterpreted the manner of fighting her daughter had meant.

Magical studies... they were all well and good, Serenity had decided. There was nothing wrong with a bit of magic. Had not all of her own battles been fought with magic, and the deus ex machina of the silver crystal passed through her lineage, fixing everything in case she screwed up too badly? Chibi-Usa could learn to fight magically. Brawling about with weapons or her bare fists, however... no. That was conduct _completely_ unbecoming of a princess. Serenity forbade it, unequivocally.

The order laid down was the first one that Chibi-Usa ever deliberately disobeyed. Lady Mercury later applied psychology to the matter, and informed the Neo-Queen belatedly that the flat refusal was possibly the worst thing she could have done. It was quite likely that the desire had, at the beginning, indeed merely been a phase or whim. Such a thing was, however, hard, painful, sweaty work by its very nature, and had Serenity simply followed her own pattern of allowing her daughter anything her heart desired, she would most likely have simply grown tired of the pursuit and ceased on her own.

Having been denied, however, Mercury reasoned that her interest had been caught. That first denial would have been extremely suprising, catching the princesses inquisitive young mind. 'Why?' would be the question. 'Why deny this, when I've never been denied before?' The allure of the forbidden would have taken hold, and coupled with a young child's naturally entering a stage of rebellion against the parents...

The whole argument was wrong, of course, but very convincing. The proof was in Chibi-Usa's behavior... disappearing from the palace at all hours, punching at trees and stone until the knuckles of her delicate, soft hands split and bled, working herself into exhaustion to the point that she was ridiculously fit for her age... within a matter of weeks, all her baby fat had _gone_ entirely, and the lean young girl had begun eating ravenously at whatever meals, wolfing whatever was set before her so fast that Serenity feared she might choke, and _knew_, from her own experience, that she was not tasting anything.

Most inexplicably painful, however, was Chibi-Usa's hair. Ever since she was old enough to express preferences in such things, she had had her soft, pink hair done daily into elaborate twin buns and tails, in an effort to be as close to her mother as possible. When she had chosen to defy that one command, however, she had changed to brushing it out and tying it off into a simple ponytail, hacked off just past her shoulders.

All in all, few would have believed that Chibi-Usa was still the same person, she had changed so much. Gone was the delicate little babydoll princess, and in her place was a girl who seemed several years older than she was, well over a hundred pounds with the added muscle, with no regard for the unseemly weight, and most often wearing a simple shirt and shorts, or even _pants_, rather than the elaborate silk dresses her mother preferred that she wear. The Neo-Queen could only wonder how things had changed so much, in only a matter of months.

In the end, she folded completely when Ladies Jupiter and Uranus brought up the far-too-real possibility that the young princess could well end up accidentally doing herself serious injury if she continued to practice on her own. After, of course, she was reminded that the only real ways at this point to _prevent_ her from doing so were to either bind her hand and foot and lock her in her room, or to give approval so that Chibi-Usa could train with supervision instead of having to disappear to someplace that nobody would find her while she ran herself into the ground.

The change had its good points and its bad points for Chibi-Usa. On the plus side, of course, there was no more skulking about and hiding her practices away to worry about, and with Jupiter and Uranus teaching her, her form and technique improved extremely rapidly as she absorbed the martial knowledge like a sponge.

And then, it cut off entirely. While having once been extremely competent martial artists in their own right, neither of the senshi had practiced themselves in centuries, and one day there had simply been nothing left to learn. With that, she had attempted to return to her own exercises, to toughen her body and make her stronger and faster, much like in the dreams, only to find the Senshi horrified at the 'brutality' of it.

She'd never thought of it as brutal. She'd used the dreams as a vague guide, but even they had only shown so much fragmented information, and she'd been forced to rely on her own ingenuity to fill the gaps, and press further in some cases. Serenity had been particularly distraught at the one where she had been jumping off of progressively taller sections of walls, to slam into the ground, toughening herself and learning to fall properly from any number of heights at the same time.

Whispers began that the princess had gone mad, but no inspections could find any brain damage or hints of insanity, save the ridiculous lengths to which the princess had been pushing herself. They did, however, find a great deal of apparently self-inflicted harm to the rest of her body, which Chibi-Usa flatly refused to allow them to heal on the grounds that the naturally-healed flesh and skin was tougher and stronger than it had been before, and 'fixing' it would mean that she would have to do it all over again, from the beginning.

Neo-Queen Serenity had very nearly been physically ill. Her little baby had _scars_. Where had she gone wrong?

The very next day she had a notice sent out, summoning everyone and anyone who knew anything about any form of combat to the castle, under the reasoning that while she didn't like any of this nonsense to begin with, as long as her little girl was learning forms and technique of battle, she wasn't deliberately maiming herself.

The turnout was poor. Perhaps a hundred of the citizens spared the Great Freeze and gifted with longevity had any such knowledge, perhaps a third of that were more than simple thugs who only knew enough to punch the other party in the jaw, and most's skill had degraded to near nothing. The vast majority of the gathered 'instructors' found that, inside a day, the princess was matching and beating them on their own grounds, with their own techniques, and incorporating them into her own strange conglomeration.

There were some gems, though. A few withered old men who'd been around for a while even before the Great Freeze, and continued daily practice so that their effectively immortal bodies didn't fall out of disrepair. A particularly venerable one who, with much effort, could force a tiny mote of glowing life force into existence, who Mercury rapidly took to studying when he claimed that _his_ sensei had been able to harness it as a weapon, though he'd never been able to proceed so far in the art himself. A strategist, who wasn't much in combat himself, but knew a great deal about battles with more than one person on each side, and played the most incredible little wargame simulations. An english swordsman, who'd survived and entered Crystal Tokyo through an improbable series of coincedences, but knew several seperate styles of sword-fighting, from the sporty fencing varying to the real deal of cutthroat battle.

_He_ had been around for quite a while himself, and hadn't much changed when given the gift of longevity. He was the only one remaining, of those who had played that game... Still, he'd kept the princess occupied for the better part of a year on his own, and had left her one of his own shortswords as a gift when he had nothing left to teach, in spite of the queen's haughty sniff at the chunk of razor edged metal.

That one, last, most venerable elder was teaching, having confirmed that the princess had _phenominal_ potential for ki arts, versus her merely average at best ability with magical arts, and Serenity had begun desperately seeking another instructor, knowing full well what pursuits her daughter would return to when they ran out, when the whole world turned on its head.

xxx

_Crystal Tokyo, 611 SA-_

It was pandaemonium, pure and simple. The people of Nemesis, having been exiled long ago and thought dead, had returned to wage war upon the city. It had been a completely unexpected assault as well, one moment a bright and sunny day, perfect for a picnic or having a knock-down, drag-out brawl of a sparring session with a _remarkably_ spry old man, and the next the world was engulfed in the spiky shadows of enemy ships, raining down fiery destruction and quasi-intelligent Droidos to hunt down people while the ships targeted larger things.

She had drawn her sword, channeled just enough magic into it to make it effective against pretty much everything, and dismembered one of the droidos purely on muscle memory and the sudden sense of a deadly assault before she had fully registered the sudden turn of situation. When she had, she dropped shakily to her knees, clutching at her mouth as the bile rose. She had killed. She had killed and it had been so _easy_-

"Princess!" Huang cried in broken Japanese, the chinaman having never taken the time to polish his grasp of the language. "Princess can vomit later, right now must get to safety!"

Chibi-Usa looked up, and saw that three more Droidos had revealed themselves and were rushing to the fray, and that Huang was readying himself to fight, despite knowing that he would not be truly effective against the paranormal foes, that at best he would merely buy a little time for his princess to escape to the palace before he was overrun.

The bile had gone. She was suddenly as steel as she rose, sword in hand, refusing to allow a respected teacher to simply die in her defense as she rushed to join the battle-

-and was suddenly held back by a familiar arm as she was teleported well away from danger, to the palace proper, just close enough to still see tiny specks as Huang began to defend himself from the ravenous Droidos.

"Puu?" She whispered, numbly. "No... _he's going to die_! Puu, you have to put me back, I have to save him!"

"It doesn't matter, if he lives or dies." The guardian of time stated coldly, unemotionally, and Chibi-Usa froze in her grip.

"Doesn't... matter? His _life_... it doesn't _matter_!? Of course it does! I have to save him! Put me back!"

"My orders are to protect you, Small Lady. At any cost."

"I'm countermanding that! I order you to let me save Huang! _Please-_!"

"Only the Queen can command me." Pluto stated somberly, not budging an iota.

Chibi-Usa began to protest once more, only for her mouth to dry as the tide of the specific battle in front of her turned from matching blow for blow, to an uneven massacre as one of the Droidos got a hit through and shattered Huang's defense. She slowly went still, struggles ceasing and eyes wide as the Droidos gleefuly tore into the old man, and she could almost imagine that she heard his dying gasp.

"I.... I could have saved him. But you took me, and.... I could have _saved him_." She whispered, horrorstruck. "Puu...."

Her teeth slowly ground together even as the tears began to flow.

"I _hate_ you _so much_..."

Pluto wordlessly teleported them away again, directly to the gates of time, one of the few places that could be considered truly invulnerable from all enemy forces.

"You'll get over it."

xxx

The passing days were a blur, but Chibi-Usa understood one thing. The sudden war was not going at all well. Where once there had been billions before the Great Freeze, where once there had been hundreds of thousands in Crystal Tokyo, the entre population of planet earth had been pared down to the Senshi, Endymion, and the Nemesians. Everyone else had died, and her Queen-Mother _hadn't even thought to open the doors for refugees to take shelter in the palace, even as they begged at the gates._

It was not stated so bluntly, of course. Defense concerns were brought up, completely ignoring that concerted effort by the senshi could have saved at least a few hundred people, if they'd thought to try, or if she'd been allowed to help. Instead, they'd focused on killing the enemy, assuming that everything would be fine when they were gone. Lives lost in the meantime _didn't matter_ as long as their princess, the royal heir and continuation of the bloodline, was safe.

But the Senshi could only be in so many places at once, and the enemy was legion. While they destroyed a handful of ships here, there were hundreds more there, gleefully destroying everything they could lay hands to. Move in a vain attempt to counter them, and more ships would rush in to fill the place of those crashing to earth, and all the while the individual Droidos were rampaging through the streets. It was a battle of attrition, one that the Senshi were losing, and worse, didn't even realize they had already lost.

Without people, what would they do, even if they did beat back the invasion? Would the Senshi, so used to being royalty, warrior princesses, turn their hands to farming? What of repopulating the world? There was only one male remaining, her own father! Even if he bore children on all the Senshi, that was only enough for a single generation before the only option was blatant incest.

Why didn't they realize... even with their best possible outcome, the world was doomed? If there was only some way to draw a cease fire, to surrender with some sort of terms, then perhaps things could continue, a cracked vision of utopia waiting for the slightest touch to shatter to dust... But that wouldn't happen. Never once had any of the Senshi offered a chance to surrender to thier enemy, never would they stoop to surrendering themselves... it was a hopeless mess.

Her private 'sulking' was interrupted with an 'Important Mission' directly from her mother.

Go into the past? The _far flung_ past, where the world still thrived and humanity still numbered in the billions, even with the imperfections? Of course. She agreed without hesitation, finally seeing a way out that they hadn't realized she'd been offered, barely registering the rest of the mission, something about her mother's crystal of unfathomable magic power. Not important.

She was _going back_. Nothing else was important. How she would return?

She ignored the instructions on how to use the tiny key to return home after her mission was accomplished, fully intending to get back by the scenic route instead. And if her actions in the past somehow changed the future so she was never born, and she just faded out of existence from a paradox some day?

Well... the future pretty much sucked anyway. She'd burn that bridge when she got there.

xxx

She didn't understand why she had to bring the balloon thing. It was bulky, it stood out more than her _hair_, it only had a few uses, most of which were performed better by smaller, more concealable items....

And it was painfully cute. That was probably it. Of all the Senshi, Pluto was the only one who had not only not noticed, but purposefully closed her eyes to Chibi-Usa's growing up. None of the others still called her Small Lady anymore, a baby-name from when she was a toddler mimicking mommy, for-! No, Pluto had probably just seen the thing and registered that a _five year old_ Chibi-Usa would have been all over it, and with the inter-temporal radio thing which worked on tech that few people could even begin to understand, it could function as a walkie-talkie, just in case she _really _wanted to talk to Puu for some reason, and so qualified as 'the perfect gift for a time traveling princess'.

She'd quietly picked up a few of the more useful trinkets, approximating the Luna-P's abilities before going, then 'accidentally' punted the thing in the middle of floating through the glowy vortex thingies representing all the time between 'now' and 'back then'.

It was gone when she arrived, and so she carefully put on a vaguely upset look when she commented about that, just in case Puu was watching, then took off in a random direction. Fortunately, Pluto had more than enough to deal with on her own, as the _freaking mothership_ of the Nemesians had somehow slipped through time/space after Chibi-Usa. She couldn't even begin to imagine how they'd pulled it off, but it would be months fixing all the tears the action had left in the fabric of reality.

The nearby couple who eerily resembled her parents were carefully and studiously ignored as she left, because they probably were.

xxx

For their part, Usagi and Mamoru spent the next twenty minutes trying to convince themselves that no, they hadn't just seen a girl with a sword drop out of a sudden and unexplained ring of pink clouds. Then they gave up and began wondering what it meant for the near future. A new enemy? They'd have to alert the rest of the Senshi, and be on their guard.

xxx

Chibi-Usa knew that there were certain things a person needed in order to stay healthy. Food and water, and shelter primarily. For that matter, the need for shelter could be ignored, as she'd gotten a great deal of practice 'roughing it', and was sure that nothing could be quite as bad as taking a nap in the post-apocalyptic wasteland that was the entirety of the future earth, save for Crystal Tokyo. Food, also, could be put off for a short time if absolutely neccessary. Although, it wouldn't be, because there was so much _life_ in this ancient time period, so much greenery, so-.... her train of thought was derailed entirely as she saw a group of young men decked in leather chase a little girl into an alley.

Okay. So the past wasn't perfect. That was what she was here for, and perfection was boring anyway.

xxx

"Say ya prayers, ya li'l freak. Imma teach you a lesson bout ya _place_."

"P-please...."

The goon chuckled as he cracked his knuckles and started to give the order to hold the brat down when they were rudely interrupted.

"One, two..... five. My, my, how quaint. It seems I've wandered into a freakshow. Five walking, talking, brainless lumps of pond scum on display, and for free at that. I think I want a refund."

"Wha...? Geh. Back off, runt. This aint none of your business." The goon growled at the newcomer, seething at the insult.

"No... perhaps it isn't. Certainly, if there was only one of you lumps, I would hesitate to interfere unless it proved absolutely neccessary. But my... Five of you, to pick on a little girl, maybe half your age? Such big, strong men. Paragons of testosterone. Does it make you feel good, preying on the defenseless? Do you enjoy it? You must, or what would be the point. Do your filthy loins tighten, when the prey tries to flee? Does your breath hitch, the adrenaline flow? Is it...._exciting_?" Chibi-Usa drawled, happily mocking the thug to the best of her ability as his face went redder and redder, and his fist clutched to the point that she could hear knuckles crack.

"Oh dear, you're blushing. Don't be embarassed, you can tell me everything. I'm sure your friends won't mind. Or is there another reason you've brought four of your buddies along? My, my... not quite my type, but I suppose they aren't unattractive, in a thuggish, bad boy sort of way. No need to be shy, just let it all out. Who knows, you might score a date, or even get lucky? Your friends look awfully pent up. I'm sure they'd enjoy it almost as much as you would, you nasty little perversion, you."

The thug finally snapped, pulling a switchblade and howling a wordless cry of rage. For his trouble, he got the pommel of her sword right between the eyes and fell back, clutching at them and suddenly whimpering with pain.

"Runt decked the boss! Get her!" One of the minion-thugs yelled, not stopping to think about just how patently bad an idea that was as Chibi-Usa's wide grin threatened to take the top of her skull off.

This was _fun_. The adrenaline rushing through her veins, blood pumping in her ears as the goons swung wildly at her, and she danced around their blows to inflict crushing punishment on the scum. It was euphoric. _Orgasmic_. It was the most wonderful feeling she'd ever encountered, and she wanted _more_.

And then the thugs were trying to flee down the alley, into a dead end, and she realized with more than a little disappointment that it was over.

"P-Please don't hurt us!" The lead thug whimpered on his knees, as his goon tried ineffectively to scramble over the tall wall. "We'll do anything you say!" He begged incoherently.

"Oho. So, having wakened a sleeping wolf when they thought to torment a kitten, the puppies seek to bargain their way out of the den? Fine then, I'm in a generous mood. Throw down your money and your clothes, and all your piercings and jewlery, and I'll let you run away like the pitiful cowards you are."

The thugs balked, and her eyes hardened to steel.

"Need I remind you...? The other option is that I beat you until you stop moving, then take them anyway. Personally, I'm hoping for that one."

Within a matter of moments, five extremely embarrased young men ran out of the alley, covered only with their hands, tattoos, and assorted gashes and bruises, and weeping huge tears of humiliation while a smug Chibi-Usa stuffed her loot into a handy sack.

"Um..." A quiet, not a bit shocked voice came. "What... what are you going to do now?"

"What now? Why? Are you worried, kitten? You shouldn't be. If you can't put up a decent fight, I'm not interested in picking one with you. But first, I'm going to go pawn this junk off before those losers register it as stolen. Then I'm going to find someplace to stay the night, and in the morning I'll pick a direction and start walking." Chibi-Usa said.

"You have nowhere to live?" the girl asked dumbly, slightly horrified before she shook it off. "Then... please! For at least a night, please sleep in my bed!"

"Heh... no offense, kitten..." Usa replied dubiously. "But you aren't exactly my type either."

"Wh..? N-no! J-just sleep, I swear! I'm a good girl!" She insisted, flushing horribly.

"That's fine then. Got an address? I'll hunt you down after I dump the loot."

"Um, yes.... one moment... here. And... my name is Hotaru Tomoe."

"Usagi."

Hotaru balked for a moment at the name, for some reason finding it very difficult to connect it with the girl who'd just thrashed and robbed a group of street toughs.

xxx

With empty sack, and a much heavier wallet, Chibi-Usa had tracked down the house, a very nice place, and rung the doorbell. Kaolinite had answered, in her guise as a simple maid.

"Yo. Hotaru here?"

Kaolinite hesitated a long moment before denying it and trying to close the door, just as a happy 'Usagi!' came from upstairs.

"Not here, huh?" Chibi-Usa stated dryly, toe wedged beneath the doorframe to prevent it from moving no matter how much the maid tried to force it. She casually stepped past.

Kaolinite seethed as the runt was rapidly invited upstairs, to meet 'Hotaru's Papa'. Bah. No matter.

The runt had a Pure Heart Crystal, in spite of her rudeness. She'd bide her time until she left, and then the wretched thing would have a Daimon sent after her, and quietly disappear.

Germatou, upstairs, was thinking much the same thing, save that he was wondering if it would be possible to arrange things for the girl to be taken in the middle of the night, and then claim she'd simply left very early in the morning when Hotaru awoke. And then, the whole thing with the thugs came up, and Germatou was caught completely off guard as the remnants of Souichiro Tomoe essentially hijacked the body to offer gratitude, and an invitation to remain as long as she liked and return whenever she wished, for she would always be welcome in his household.

Germatou wasn't exactly pleased with that. Hell, Germatou hadn't even realized that there was anything left of Souichiro aside from the empty shell of flesh he was wearing, but it grudgingly conceded the point. If there were fragments of personality so stubborn that they _still_ existed, even after so long being immolated in his corruptive influence, then they were never going away, and could actually make life pretty difficult for him if they had cause. One Heart Crystal more or less didn't matter _that_ much.

If she got caught away from this house, or from Hotaru, of course, then all bets were off.

xxx

Having eaten a couple of Beef Bowls before finding the house, Chibi-Usa was more than able to tone her typical feeding frenzy down to a reasonable rate for the sake of politeness.

The bed had been nice too, if a little odd. She'd not slept in the same bed as another person since infancy, but while strange, it was a sort of comforting warmth. They had woken at the same time, in a confusing tangle of limbs and a great deal of flushing on Hotaru's part.

Breakfast had been excellent, and she'd eaten her fill before collecting her sack and her sword and saying her goodbyes.

Where to now, then? China tickled her fancy for a moment, before she brushed the idea off. Many of Huang's tales of China hadn't exactly been pretty, and the dreams had painted an unpleasant picture as well. Ancient curses, murderous women, lots of bad weather.... no. She would be staying in Japan. The only reason to go elsewhere would be to hunt down a martial arts master to learn from, and there were _more_ than plenty of those in Japan, she hoped.

And then, right as she had started to narrow down the places to go, she happened to cross paths with a truant officer, and belatedly realized her error as he turned to chase her and she decided to leave _now_. Spending every day in classes, learning things her tutors had long since taught her was _not_ how she planned to spend the next few years. On top of that, there was the whole 'no identity' thing, due to her not technically being born until hundreds of years from now, which would probably be a hassle too.

She could just hypnotize him, of course, but the little trinket only worked on at most three people at a time, and using it in a crowded street would draw _very_ unwelcome attention. No, better for now to simply run.

Naturally, it was when she had nearly gotten away that the Daimon attacked, morphing out from the garbage tin and howling something she didn't catch. From that point, she really had to turn around and kill it, because otherwise the officer was pretty much as good as dead.

It wasn't particularly difficult either. It was far tougher than the Droido she'd butchered, but pumping just a fraction more magic through the edge of her blade was enough, after the first deflected slash, to neatly bisect the thing on the second stroke as it crumbled to dust. Then she took off again, and the officer only hesitated a moment before he picked up the chase, this time seeking answers rather than to put her in school.

And this time, she didn't have anywhere near as far of a headstart, and took a wrong turn into a dead end of an alley.

"Tch.. well. Looks like you caught me, officer. So what now?"

"What... _was_ that thing, back there?"

"Youma." She answered flatly, not particularly inclined to go into the differences and just using the catchall term.

"Youma...." He whispered. "Like the Sailor Senshi fight?"

"Yeah... if you have to bring those numbskulls into it." She grumbled, her opinion of her mother and her court having been spiraling rapidly downwards lately.

"Numbskulls!?" He barked, suddenly irritated at the little girl. "The Senshi are-"

"Heroes, yes. It doesn't stop them from being morons." She thought quickly for an argument. "Look, how long did it take me to deal with the Youma, and how did I do it?"

"You... oh." He said, slowly deflating. "Two swings of your sword."

"Yeah. Exactly. Now tell me... how do the fights that the Senshi get involved in with these things usually go?"

He flinched, having seen firsthand some of the collateral damage.

"I thought so. Big, flashy magic attacks, and if the youma dodges then the answer is _more_ big, flashy magic attacks. They only have the one tool in their arsenal, have never bothered to find any more, and likely will never make the attempt. _That_ is what irritates me. What's the point of killing a Youma, if you leave more destruction behind in doing so than it did?"

The policeman winced again, realizing that he actually agreed with the argument. There was a budget of tax dollars set for repairing just such collateral damage that could be used elsewhere, if only everyone didn't know full well that it needed to stay where it was.

"So hey. No more questions? That's good. 'Cause, you see, from this point there's two options. You cut me some slack and pretend you never saw me, or I wipe your memories, and you spend the rest of your day wondering how that snot-nosed punk of a bleach-blonde brat managed to ditch you, when you were so sure you had him."

He twitched, and then after a moment he slowly stepped aside, averting his eyes. As she passed, he spoke up again.

"If you're looking for someplace to go... Nerima district, nearby, is very relaxed about many things."

"I'll keep that in mind, officer-san."

xxx

A.N. Hokay! Long chapter, written all at once!

As you may have noticed, Chibi-Usa is _really_ different. My first plan was essentially a female, younger Ranma. That.... didn't really work out. Second was mainly Chibi-Usa of canon, but having applied Ranma's 'be the best' thing to magic stuffs. Again, flop. In the end I just said 'screw it' and started with the dreams thing that got brought up in the chapter one semi-prologue thing and let the character create itself from there, taking into account the significant Ranma influence of the dreams, as well as the whole 'raised as a princess' thing to throw some extra stuff in.

Seriously, you think Genma would have let Ranma learn strategy, an exercise of the brain rather than brawn? Haha, no. I think this works out a lot better, even though at this point I may as well have just switched Chibi-Usa out with an OC of the same name. Meh.


	15. Naruto, Oneshot: Forbidden

There is a reason that things are forbidden. Sometimes it is the simple, clear matter of the inherent suicidal danger involved. Others, the reasoning can be more subtle. Political maneuvering, or an attempt to seal away the key linchpin of something that had been abused to some extent previously, to the point that nobody wanted its return.

And still other reasons. There is always a reason, however that reason is not always immediately apparent, or obvious, and may actually have been deliberately hidden away.

The Shadow Clone Jutsu was one such forbidden thing, the very first entry upon the forbidden scroll of Konoha. The reason it had been forbidden, much like every other technique inscribed within the scroll, was clearly written. It was also a clever lie.

Certainly, it was true that the technique could lower the users chakra to dangerous, or even fatal levels. It is also true that the psychic feedback of having any significant number of clones dispel at the same time could potentially be hazardous to the user. Both were very real, dangerous drawbacks to the technique.

But most ninja cannot take three steps without encountering some technique or other that had potentially dangerous drawbacks. It remained on the scroll due to respect for the first Hokage's supposed foibles, but after enough time had passed, the technique had been reviewed, it was noted that it was significantly less immediately suicidal than the other forbidden techniques tended to be, and eventually you would be hard pressed to find a single Jounin ranked ninja of Konoha that couldn't use the technique, if the situation called for it.

And so the forbidden technique became significantly less guarded, with none the wiser as to _why _it had been forbidden in the first place.

Indeed, for any normal ninja, or even any exceptional or genius ninja, of near any bloodline, that was all there was to it. But there was one last, secret point of note about the technique which only ever came of note under special circumstances.

What the technique did was actually to create new, flesh and blood bodies identical to the user, ignoring that those bodies would dispel into harmless smoke with any form of injury, to the point where they might be mobile statues of the thinnest glass. The mind was also overlaid upon these new bodies, as a mass of drooling vegetables would hardly be useful, and a significant chunk of the users chakra was stuffed into it, allowing, for a limited time, for the construct to function as though it were a real person, identical in near every way to its creator.

The problem came when there was more than one mind or chakra to deal with. The schitzophrenic, or those with severe multiple personality disorder, a couple of unique bloodlines...

It had been much to the first Hokage's surprise that, rarely, it would not be the primary mind which was overlayed upon the clone, but that of the secondary mind, if such were available. Similarly, the clones would very rarely recieve the secondary chakra, rather than the primary. The odds of both were identical, a mere fraction of a percent, so small as to be all but impossible unless you were summoning hundreds of clones at a time, which was in and of itself impossible. Usually.

It wasn't until much later that a chilling thought crossed the man's mind. Jinchuuriki, demon containers.

At first glance the technique seemed perfect for them, as they had a ridiculously huge demonic power supply constantly restoring and inflating their own reserves, but with this new information, the technique could become catastrophic. These would be people that _could_ potentially create hundreds of clones at a time. Even at less than a one in a hundred chance, at that rate, there would be a slip sooner or later, and it would lead to catastrophe.

He had studied the matter in a great deal of depth. In theory, at the very least, there would be a clone running around controlled by the demon's mind, and with no less than half of the demon's chakra supporting it.

At that point, a previously academic question became dreadfully pertinent. Was the chakra reservoir of one of the great Bijuu infinite, or merely near-infinite?

If it was simply near infinite, then bad enough. It would still be a whole damn lot, more than enough by far for the clone to create a shroud of chakra about itself to prevent any misfortune or stray kunai from cutting short its existence, but it would, eventually, run out of power, as a clone could not actually generate any chakra of its own.

If it was truly infinite, however... half of an infinite amount, was still an infinite amount. In that case, what the situation would have created would be no less than a second, smaller Bijuu, with it's own infinite reservoir of chakra, which would be indestructible through any normal means, as were the Bijuu themselves...

It was the most horrible discovery he had ever made, and he instantly made it a secret, speaking of it to nobody, knowing that there were many out there who would ignore the risk at the thought of creating an army of demons, under some delusion that they would be any more controllable than their larger counterparts.

_Nine_ Bijuu caused enough trouble, even when they could be seen coming for days. Smaller, they would take longer in getting places, but they would doubtless spring out of absolutely nowhere, with no time to prepare any sort of defense against them.

Even one or two such would be horrible. More than that... it would be an apocalypse, the end of everything as they knew it.

And so, he had ordered the technique, unique to Konoha, sealed and forbidden from use. And while he lived, it had been undisputed. Even while his brother reigned as the second Hokage, the jutsu was left unused, as even though he hadn't been confided in, he knew full well that his brother did nothing without a deeper reason. But nothing lasts forever, and without any sound reasoning for the sealing of the technique, the third Hokage had eventually and unofficially allowed its use after desperate times, seeing only the normal drawbacks of the technique, and acknowledging the risk, but using it as a tool in spite of it.

And then, the fourth Hokage had sealed away the Kyuubi no Kitsune, the one of the Bijuu most likely to have an infinite supply of chakra as opposed to near-infinite, into a Jinchuuriki. Had the first Hokage still lived, or had he ever passed along his fears, paranoid though they might be, it would have prompted an immediate reinstatement of the ban of the usage or teaching of that technique, and the instructions themselves to be immediately burned out of the scroll, deeming the knowledge too hazardous to be in any way available.

So it was, when a deluded young genin, bearing a burden without any realization of the weight upon his shoulders, opened that scroll and read the contents inside, only one technique seemed in any way close enough to his level for him to master it. And later, when his first successful clone puffed into existence nearby, the ancient and malevolent creature within him was alerted, eyes snapping open first in confusion, and then in a delighted and savage glee, understanding in an instant what the first Hokage had only concluded after a great length of study.

And so the world reached its last days, with none the wiser. Every time Naruto created a teeming mass of clones, one or two would stumble off, eyes slowly fading through purple into a blazing red, slipping quietly away to boltholes where nobody would ever find them and hibernating, waiting until the time was finally right.

As Naruto fought his way through life from that point on, through missing-nin and invasions and criminal organizations, he never once realized that in using his default go-to technique of creating clones until there was nothing but a sea of orange, he was his own worst enemy, swelling the ranks of a crimson tide that would one day scour the planet to bare stone in a final orgy of carnage and destruction.

They would never see it coming.

xxx

A.N.

So, this started as just an interesting mental exersize, about 'what if there was a 'real' reason that technique was on the forbidden list', but I think I lost it somewhere in the middle, and... yeah.

So anyway, no happily ever afters here, and this whole thing unfortunately makes a really horrible sort of sense, don'cha think? Brr.


	16. Touhou, Ranma: China 1shot

"Ranma!" Akane barked, snapping the other from a brief daze. "Don't touch it."

Ranma made to answer, but was distracted again by the floating orb of what could only be described as liquid moonlight, hovering over the center of the koi pond, and took a jerking half-stumbled step towards it.

"I said don't!" Akane yelled again, fear now clearly present in her voice.

"You don't... understand." Ranma whispered softly taking another halting step forward. "I... I know. If I touch it.... the slightest brush is certain death. But.... I just... the chi and.... it's so _beautiful_." He finished dreamily, staggering forward again and into the pond itself, a by-now familiar transformation settling in, but changing nothing important.

Akane couldn't move, the oppressive aura that had come with the object's appearance having settled around her like physical chains, preventing her from coming any nearer, even as she knew that if nothing interfered, then Ranma would...

"Part of me... part of me agrees with you." Ranma admitted, having come to a stop just within arms reach of the floating orb. "It's screaming at me right now, to just back away... to wait, and pretend I never saw this, and go on with my life as normal. But... Even if I wanted to, I...." She shook her head. "I can barely control... my body, it's almost moving on its own, I.... it came for _me_."

The sense of stunned wonder in that sentence didn't bear the slightest hint of the dread it had instilled in Akane.

"It can cure you, but you'll be _dead_, and it won't matter!" She yelled, trying another tack to convince her fiance to turn away from the danger and come back, knowing the futility but having to try anyway.

"Cure...?" Ranma wondered bemusedly. "Curse...?" She continued, looking down at her body as though she'd never seen it before. "That's... that's all you know? Akane, this... this is pure, condensed _knowledge_... enough to rival that of any god. It's not just one more curse-cure-all."

"Knowledge..." She croaked, through a suddenly tight and raspy throat. "Of... of what?"

".... Everything." Ranma answered simply, and despite that she had her back to the house, Akane could almost _see_ the smile forming. "Akane... just by being so near to it, hidden mysteries of all existence... I can _see _them, almost. Theoretical mathematical principles centuries ahead of our time, ancient martial arts secrets long forgotten by all, the most beautiful of arts and musics, and the most terrible of magics...."

She shook her head.

"I could.... I could even now sing a melody that you would swear could entrance and lure songbirds away from the nest... paint a portrait of you that, hung upon a wall, you would not immediately realize were not a mirror... I almost know how to build devices that could better humanity in so many ways, have nearly worked out infallible speeches to sway the hearts and souls of any populace to any cause I should choose... I, I could almost..."

Ranma was trembling all over by now, lost in the wash of potential.

"But... there's still something... something I'm missing. One last note, to the perfect song, a single missing brushstroke, the tiniest, most pivotal cogs of those machines. I can't, I can't.... just step away."

"_Please_ Ranma!" Akane implored one last time, tears pouring down her face, wishing that someone, _anyone_ else was home and could help her find a way to stop this from happening.

"It's... already too late." Ranma said, sorrowfully. "I can see and understand that, too. The nearer I come... the tighter its binds upon me. I am long past the event horizon, the point of no return. I couldn't turn back now even if I could muster the will."

She shook her head one last time.

"I'm... sorry, Akane." She whispered, and reached out.

There was an anguished scream, perhaps Akane's or hers or both, and then Ranma knew one moment of the purest, blissful, most indescribable ecstasy. And then there followed a further moment of the most bitter, scorching, agonizing torment, as thought the eyes of a wrathful god had turned upon her.... and then there was nothing.

Hours later, Akane was bodily dragged away from the koi pond, empty save for the few koi at the bottom which had long since succumbed to either the sudden flash-evaporation of the waters or the gasping struggle to breathe after. The orb had never been seen by any others, and suspicion from multiple parties fell upon Akane, the conclusion being that she had invented the fantastic tale to cover for some guilt she may have held in the matter of her fiance's untimely dissappearance. Nobody truly believed he could be dead, after all.

That, however, is a different story entirely.

xxx

Her first memory was when she came to be, floating in the lake...

No. No that wasn't quite correct. Her first _coherent_ memory was the lake, everything before that being meaningless chaos, random flashes of color and noise, only occasionally clear enough to make out a fractured image here and there, or a garbled word or two. Clearly, there had been something before then.

But the lake was all she remembered clearly. And so the lake was where she truly came to be.

She wandered the forest, comprehending nothing of it. Her eyes wide and seldom blinking, focusing on everything and nothing at the same time, as though an infant's body had grown to a point, but left the mind untouched.

She knew fear, though. She would never recall whether she had found the wolves first, or if they had been the one to find her, but one look into their feral, hungry eyes and she knew that they were dangerous even before they bared pointy, white teeth.

But she discovered, when put to the panic-fueled test, that her body had memories that her mind did not, as it moved almost on its own. Oh, yes. As the lunging wolf splattered messily apart before her hand, she knew that she had power.

With that power, she could protect herself from danger, and she came to understand that to continue her own existence, it was neccessary to kill. But.... Her power proved to be too much, coupled with a newborn, empty mind.

When she came to doubt her belief in 'life'... nothing could approach her.

And so, word spread. Never to go near the forest on the north shore of the lake, for those who tresspassed would be rent asunder by a scarlet devil. Before long, they named the lake in her honor. The lake where the scarlet devil resides... the Scarlet Devil Lake.

xxx

The moon was full. She waited patiently, knowing, feeling with a sense that she couldn't put into words that something intruded on her domain. She didn't have long before the interloper appeared.

"So. You're the so called 'scarlet devil'?" The intruder asked.

"....what?"

"Hmph. You're extremely impolite, aren't you? I'll get straight to the point. _You're in my way_. Quietly leave and I won't bother you... was what I thought about saying, but instead... I'll take this chance to amuse myself."

"...oh.... really...?"

The intruder seemed to vanish in a burst of speed, moving behind her and lunging to the kill. Her body, reacting on impulses that she couldn't remember learning, but had learned to trust, turned partially, raising one arm to deflect the strike harmlessly away and offering a counterblow with the other. The intruder shot backwards to evade, and so only lost a cannonball sized chunk from her side, rather than being completely splattered apart.

"Not bad." The intruder said wryly.

".... surprising."

"That should be my line. I hadn't planned on being caught off guard. Heheh... but I'm quite pleased. Haven't been killed like that in forever... several decades at least. This is more fun than I'd expected. Well then... with the moon shining red... you will know death tonight."

The fight renewed, and once again she knew fear, in the face of an enemy that couldn't be defeated. But still... the incredibly powerful intruder's continued existence... it excited her like nothing before. As the battle raged... she could only hope that it continued forever.

And then she fell.

xxx

"Sheesh... you're just like her, back then..."

"I've really taken to you."

"Your fate is in my hands."

"I shall provide your existence with a name, and meaning."

"My name is Remilia Scarlet. From this day on, you are now mine. And your name shall be...."

xxx

A.N.

Lol, one-shot only. Yup, 'fraid this one's going nowhere, folks. Just the product of a spare hour and the thought 'hey... this person looks almost just like that person...'. Insert an excuse plot device type thingy, casually steal a bunch from a particularly awesome doujin, shake well and serve.

It's Scarlet Devil, by... I think Asatsuki Dou, or something like that, if anyone wants to google it.

If you really couldn't guess the name, it's Hong Meilin, alias 'China'. So! Maybe next I'll do something similar, but with Ayase Yue and Patchouli Knowledge? Or maybe not. Unless I can find some particularly epic backstory doujin, like this one was, probably not, actually.


	17. Bun Fu, Chapter 3ish

Nerima wasn't terribly far, so she'd decided to follow the officer's advice and head that direction. And she was glad she had! This place... for someone like her, it was a goldmine. Every few minutes, she caught a glance of someone that she could _tell_ was a seasoned and experienced fighter, just by how they moved. They were like wolves, or giant hunting cats as they moved through the milling sheep around them.

For once in her life, she wasn't the big fish of a small pond. She'd found her way to the ocean, and it was _wonderful_. That one... she could hear tiny, muffled clinks of metal bumping into metal as he moved. He had a large number of weapons hidden on his person. That one... he was significantly weighed down. He was leaving tiny cracks in the pavement where he walked, in fact, but wasn't showing any sign of being hindered by the weight! Strong! That one, a ninja in pink that she'd only caught a glimpse of out of the corner of her eye before she disappeared. That one, with his wooden sword. That one.. that one... that one....

She was so excited, her hands were trembling and her mouth had gone dry. So many... so many competent fighters, all in one spot... all for her... she wanted to fight them _all_. More, she wanted to learn from them, to find out how they had become strong, and use that knowledge to make herself stronger, to create techniques of her own using theirs as a base.

This place was like she'd accidentally wandered into Shangri-la. She might not ever leave.

Well, on second thought, given that the particularly shriveled old man she'd just noted was carrying a large sack of unmentionables over his back, and was fleeing from the wrath of dozens of normal women, armed with randomly grabbed tools and blunt instruments, she might want to consider being somewhere else once she started doing the whole puberty thing.

Still, aside from that, perfection. She watched in delight as the one with the weapons chucked a knife _just_ so that the old man misplaced his footing at a bad moment and slammed facefirst into the ground, followed by the women catching up and venting their furies on him.

And when they were done, she could tell just by looking that the damage was all superficial, and he would be up and at it again in a matter of moments. This was it then... time to start.

"I'm so lucky." She chirped happily as she started walking again. "So many fighters, all the time in the world. This is great."

She looked down to the old man, now at her feet.

"You're _really_ tough." She said, allowing a clear note of admiration to color the sentence. "Kind of a perv, and you don't seem to really have any impulse control whatsoever, but perfection sucks anyway."

"Oho. Such admiration from a young lady. Obviously, you've never heard of me." The old man said, hopping spryly to his feet.

"Nope. Never seen you before today in my life, geezer. Doesn't really matter though. I'm not interested in you for much. I just want you to teach me, or to fight me."

"Really now." The old man said, giving her the once-over and then snorting. "Even if I _did_ train women, you aren't ripe yet kiddo. Come back after you've sprouted a set of hooters."

"Is that your final answer?" She wondered aloud. "I could make things very... _difficult_ for you, you know."

"Feh. You're a hundred years to early to give me any trouble, lass. But if you insist, go ahead. Take your best shot."

Maybe he was right. Odds were, he'd been training for decades, at least, and so had a serious advantage over her in that regard. However... he was assuming that she intended to play fair.

Without a further word, she dropped to her knees and began bawling her eyes out, having long since learned to force tears on demand, and basically did her best to make a huge scene. The old man twitched.

"Well played, brat." He grumbled darkly. But she wasn't done yet.

"H-he tuh-_touched_ me!" She managed to whimper at the top of her lungs, causing the entire street to go silent. "I-I feel s-so duh-_dirty_!"

"Wait! No! I did no such thing!" The old man retorted, then paused, obviously thinking about whether or not anyone would actually believe that, coming from him. "It was an accident?" He tried, feebly.

The auras of pure, burning rage rapidly igniting through the crowd, shining particularly bright on those who were actual fighters, suggested that nobody was buying it.

_**"HAAAAPPOOOOOSAAAAAAI!"**_

"Wait! You've got it all wrong! This _isn't my fault_! That doesn't bend that way!"

xxx

Happosai had never taken such a painful beating in his life. Compounding that was how he was cursing himself for a fool for sticking around and trying to argue his case rather than _running like hell_, the way all his instincts had been screaming at him to do since the moment the first tear had been shed.

When he woke up, he was on top of a roof, vaguely remembered having been kicked there, and had apparently been there long enough that the _brat_ had had enough time to clamber up the fire escape after him. He twitched, and would have hurled himself over the edge to escape the demon-child, had his body merely responded to the silent demand.

"So... Have you changed your mind, Happo-ji?"

"Child.... never before in all of my long life have I so purely and completely loathed a person as I do you. I would sooner cut off my own legs."

The childs eyes narrowed, and when she next spoke it was in a whisper that made his blood run cold.

"Eeek... m-my panties! I, I'm sure I was wearing them just a moment-"

"All right, all right!" He agreed, frantically. "Have pity on a poor old man. Just... just lay off of me and I'll do whatever you want."

The brat squealed in delight and grabbed the ancient, broken man into a hug, and Happosai realized that, like never before, he was horrified to have been cradled to a female's chest.

"We're going to have such _FUN_ together, Happo-ji!" She said, grin wide, like a shark.

"G-Get off of me, demonspawn!" He replied, struggling in vain to escape.

xxx

"So, aside from seeing her arrive, neither of you have seen that little girl since?" Ami asked, trying to piece together how the bit of information fit into the sudden new scenario of the four sisters controlling the new Youma in town.

"Yeah. It was really weird-" Usagi paused a moment to scarf down a riceball. "-how she showed up all of a sudden. And I'm pretty sure she saw us too, but she didn't even give us a second glance before she left... although I think she might have mentioned Luna."

"And only a few hours later, the first Droido showed itself." Ami considered, then shook her head. "I'm sorry, Usagi-chan, but I still cant say for sure how she fits into things."

"_Obviously_, she's one of these Nemesis people." the paranoid moon cat interjected, feeling secure in making the accusation due to the fact that the girl had appeared in an odd way just shortly before Bad Things had started happening again.

"That's a possibility." Ami admitted. "Of course, it could also be that they followed her here from wherever she came from, and she's running from them, or even that it's all pure coincidence and she actually has nothing to do with the current situation at all."

"Still up to no good, no doubt." Luna grumbled to herself.

"In any case, there's simply too little information to draw an accurate conclusion from. We'll simply have to keep an eye out for the girl while we deal with things here."

Usagi snatched another riceball, wondering about that to herself. For some reason, she was absolutely sure that the girl wasn't a bad person, even knowing nothing about her. It was just...

It was like she was someone that Usagi was supposed to know, as close as family, tickling at the back of her mind as she tried to place memories and a name to the image. Nothing came though, and the senshi meeting degenerated into goodnatured teasing and namecalling, as usual.

xxx

When Happosai awoke again in the morning, this time in his own futon, at the Tendo's, the pre-teen demonspawn was nowhere to be seen. Sighing in deepest relief, he wrote off the entire experience as a horrible, _horrible_ nightmare and went down to breakfast.

She was there. _Smiling_. He was halfway to the window before he'd even registered his body moving.

"Going somewhere, Happo-ji? But... you promised me training! If you break your promise, why, _whatever_ shall I do?" The demonspawn said, having the gall to feign sorrow.

Even so, his muscles froze and locked in place, and he broke out in a cold sweat as he stared longingly out the window. Then he turned, and trudged dejectedly back to the table, his pupils gawking at the way he had been so swiftly cowed by the girl.

Rather than leaving him in peace to sit and eat at his place, the demonspawn gathered him up and plopped him in her lap like a living teddy bear, daintily feeding herself and pressing food into his face as though he were an infant.

"Unhand me whelp." He said tiredly, more out of reflex than any expectation that he would actually be released, and answered by a giggle.

"But Happo-ji.... it's the student's place to pamper the sensei, don't you know?" She said poking insistently at the corner of his mouth with a clump of rice.

"You cannot even begin to imagine how hot the fires of my eternal hatred for you burn." He stated flatly.

"Happo-ji is such a kidder." The demon-spawn chirruped happily.

Nabiki stumbled down the stairs, stared for several long moments at the tableau, then carefully pulled something out of her pocket.

"Don't you _dare_-" He started to bark before feeling the demonspawn pinch at his cheeks like an overeager, painfully affectionate grandma.

"Oh my. Smiley face for the camera, Happo-ji!"

There was a brilliant and dazzling flash.

xxx

"So, you'll be staying with us for a while?" Nabiki asked, ignoring the sullen grandmaster not two feet away.

"It depends. Seems like that's going to be the most convenient option for me, though." Chibi-usa semi-confirmed, blandly.

Nabiki considered that. It wasn't like they didn't have the room, ever since Genma had mostly moved back in with his wife after the Turkey Incident. (Carefully played up for her as an assault by a three story tall and immortal demon turkey from the pits of hell, which their brave, manly son had valiantly sacrificed his own life in an act of wholehearted manliness, in order to seal away such that it would never troubly anyone ever again.)

The problem was, much as it had been before, finances. Her previous method of simply mooching cash off of Ranma, through various means, simply wasn't going to apply to the much younger girl, at least as long as she wanted to keep her name off of the lists of certain registered offenders, but at the same time the girl ate a _lot_. Saotome-level 'lots'. Probably best to approach the problem more directly.

"You don't suppose you might be eating a bit much? That's... really not seemly of a girl your age." She hinted.

"Ha! You sound like my mom." Chibi-usa teased. "'Eat more demurely, you're supposed to be a princess', 'Think about your weight, dear, you'll never fit into your new dress at this rate', 'Why on _earth_ would my _baby_ want to learn how to fight?' Nag, nag, nag."

"So you're a runaway?" Nabiki ventured.

"Hah! Not hardly. I'm a time-traveler."

There was a long moment of awkward silence.

"I'm... I'm sorry, I don't think I heard that right...?" Nabiki tried.

"Time. Traveler. Me." Chibi-usa drawled slowly and clearly, as though to an idiot. "I do not, in point of fact, actually come from this generation or even century."

"Riiight..." Nabiki said awkwardly, wondering why, oh _why_ the weird stuff kept happening even after Ranma was long gone.

Even so, she dimly recalled some sort of trinket or other that supposedly could do something like that, although she'd never had the opportunity to see it in action, what with its breaking. So logically, it was entirely possible that where one means existed, there were others.... her mind flickered, as per normal, onto how to make a profit of the new information.

"So... exactly _when_-"

"Dunno." Chibi-usa interrupted, before the question could be finished. "We run on a really different calender. At the very least, though, it was better than six hundred years past Mom becoming Queen of Everything when I left."

"Queen of...?"

"And I really don't know when that happened, exactly, although I hope it won't be for a good while yet." The pink-haired girl fretted. "It could really be anywhere from tomorrow to a hundred years from now, though, so..."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Nabiki interrupted, the entire household now listening closely to the conversation. "Back to the 'Queen of Everything' bit...."

"Not much to say there. Mom took control of everything, and set herself up as Queen." Usa paused and snorted lightly. "Though, it would have been equally accurate to say that she took control of everything and set herself up as Mayor, I suppose."

"Mayor...?" Nabiki asked, feeling slightly faint and really, _really_ hoping she was drawing the wrong conclusion from this.

"Yeah. After all.... it wasn't like there was much of 'Everything' left for her to be queen of."

Mayhem temporarily erupted, everyone asking questions all at once, and their voices all drowning each other out. Usa waited patiently for the tumult to die down, silently wondering if she was doing the right thing, but knowing that by now, it was already too late by far for second guesses.

"Hm. If you'll settle down, I'll explain. At some indeterminate point in the future, disaster strikes the world as a whole. I... don't really know many details, I'm afraid, but the disaster has been referenced as the 'Great Freeze', and in the simplest possible terms, it is the apocalypse. In short, the world as we know it comes to an end before a relentless new ice age, and everything dies. Except for Tokyo, which Mom safeguarded with her most powerful magic, and everyone who was fortunate enough to be inside of it at the time. After the danger had passed, Mom set herself up as the new Queen of Crystal Tokyo, a 'perfect utopia of peace' of sorts."

Usa shrugged blandly.

"True enough, I guess... but in comparison to the wastelands that covered the rest of the world, pretty much anything could look perfect or utopian, and with so few people still left, there wasn't really anything that they considered worth fighting each other over anymore. But hey, nothing lasts forever. Nemesis people attacked, and there was another near-genocide. There were eleven people left, counting me, and three talking cats still alive when I left on mother's _terribly important mission_."

Usa almost spat the last three words out, as though they were something foul-tasting.

"Mission?" Happosai wondered.

"Tch. You'll love this." Usa drawled. "With everyone dead, Mom's magnificent scheme boils down to three points. Steal a magical artifact of near-unfathomable power from herself in the past. Bring it to herself in the future. And use them both at the same time. Because apparently, just one isn't cutting it for some reason."

"I.... must admit, I have certainly heard far better plans in my life." Soun admitted.

"I _know_. That's why I basically chucked it the second I got back. No point. Even if Mom kills all the Nemesians, there's still only ten other people left in Crystal Tokyo. Screw that, I've got a better plan."

Usa grinned widely and leaned back.

"There's two plans, actually. Plan A... Stop the Great Freeze from happening at all. Not sure Mom'll be pleased about not getting to play Empress of All That Is, but she'll get over it. Plan B, in case I can't pull that off, is to at the very least arrange things so that more than one city manages to survive the end of the world, and the survivors have more options than relying on Mom's magic for everything from food and shelter to defense."

"I find it difficult to believe that there were no martial artists, or guns, or anything of that nature remaining in the far-flung future." Happosai noted dubiously.

"There were no guns. There was simply no point to having them, as with nothing to shoot there was nothing to use them for, and so they fell into disrepair long before Nemesis made their move. And there were martial artists but...." She shrugged sadly. "... Somehow, none of your caliber survived the Freeze, Happo-ji. Or if they did, they never made their way back to Tokyo. The best we had...."

Usa paused, then lifted one hand. After a long moment of sweaty effort, a tiny mote of ki flickered into existence for the barest few moments, then dissolved, leaving her to huff softly from the effort.

"Master Huang was undisputedly the most advanced martial arts sensei in Crystal Tokyo." She said sadly. "And while he insisted that his own master outstripped him by as much as he would outmatch a toddling infant, his master had died of old age long before the Great Freeze, and all his scrolls detailing how to progress further were lost when the world ended. He taught me everything he knew, but in the end, he only knew so much to teach... and alone, it wasn't enough to save him from Nemesis' youma. Magic has always been more useful in that regard, even with my own lack of any particular talent..."

Usa shook her head sadly.

"Magic...." Genma said somberly. "I don't suppose you have any proof that you can use it?"

"Well... Unless there's a Youma nearby that I can demonstrate on, there's not much I can do. Like I said, I'm not particularly talented in that regard... Oh! I can sniff out other magic though, that doesn't take much at all. Um... oh! You're under a curse, Saotome-san... something about transformation...?"

"Bah. It's not like I go out of my way to hide that. You could have heard that from anyone." Somber nods around the table confirmed that, and Usa chewed on her bottom lip for a moment.

"Hrm... Oh! But did you know that _she_ has a curse too?"

Chaos erupted once more as her finger swung to land on Akane, and took several minutes to be settled down.

"It's true! It's, um, much smaller and more subtle than Saotome-san's, though... Give me a moment to figure it all out..... Hm, definitely a binding of some sort...." She trailed off into a mumble. "Binding her brain? No, that's not quite right.... binding something though, and her brain is certainly involved... her memories? No... aha! It's her ability to process and store new information, in short, her ability to learn... but that's odd... it looks like a couple things are bound. Hmm...."

Usa frowned deeply.

"That's strange.... this magic is almost familiar to me, now that I've looked at it in this much detail, but I can't quite place it.... and what it's doing is weird too..."

"Well?" Akane interrupted sharply, very concerned about the turn the conversation had taken.

"Ah! Yes... Um, it's strange. Just hold still a moment and I can remove it."

Without warning, Usa hopped forward and plunged a hand through Akane's forehead, causing the girl to first freeze up, then wonder why she was neither bleeding or in pain. Before she could consider it too much, the younger girl had withdrawn her hand, a wriggly... _thing_, which was absolutely horrible to look at and she couldn't quite describe, trapped between her fingers.

"Got you! Hm... judging by the form it's manifested upon extraction, this was obviously placed with the most malicious and clear intent to harm. I still don't understand, though, just why it was so important to this person that you never, ever learned how to swim or cook... and while mischevous, I don't understand how.... er?"

Akane had stood, woodenly, and was now carefully climbing the stairs. After a moment, the sound of a door opening and shutting seemed to echo through the empty room.

"Well... you've convinced me." Happosai said, haltingly, the atmosphere having become quite oppressive in the small room. "Let's... let's see about getting some training done, then. We can talk about... saving the world... this afternoon, after some other people are gathered."

"'Kay, Happo-ji." Usa said, casually crushing the wriggling _thing_ in her fist and tossing it into the garbage.

It was only after they had left that Nabiki realized that she'd never actually managed to swing the topic of the conversation back around to money, and she swore, loudly.

xxx

A.N.

Eh... a half chapter or so. Because I realized that I was considering actually making this a 'Full Story'(No guarantees, sorry), but I also realized that this chapter was leading in a direction that I wasn't sure I liked, starting with the Nabiki/Chibi-Usa conversation section. If I _do_ decide to continue this, I'll probably rewrite this chapter from thence onward.


	18. Touhou, Ranma: A Maid's Life

Ranma gulped slowly, doing her best to simultaneously keep a wary eye on her interviewer's hands, more specifically the thin bladed throwing dagger which she was using to carefully clean under her nails, while at the same time perfectly preparing a cup of European tea. It was tricky, because if she devoted too much attention to the knife, she would make some near-imperceptible error which would give the head maid cause to use the blade. At the same time, if she devoted too much attention to the tea, the woman would take it as an excuse to test her reflexes and compusure by, once again, using the knife.

It was a fine, fine line that she had to balance herself on, and for a moment, she wondered how she had gotten herself into this mess. Then she banished the thought and returned her focus to the tasks at hand as the head maid noticed her momentary lapse of attentiveness and rewarded it with the blade she had been handling. Even the barest moment's more of laxity, and it would have nailed her hand to the table, _again_, and even so she only barely managed to move fast enough to limit her chastisement to a minor scratch against the knuckles.

There was, of course, another knife in her interviewer's hands before the previous had even passed halfway through its flight.

With the greatest of care, Ranma finished the tea preparations and stepped back, leaving it as an offering to the other woman. She took it, sniffed the steam daintily, and mulled over a small sip before swallowing.

"Acceptable." She decided, after a long, uncomfortable moment. "You will, of course, rapidly improve with experience, I trust?"

Ranma almost sagged visibly with relief.

xxx

It had begun, as many things did, with the arrival of an unexpected visitor. The Prince of a Magical Kingdom, much like several unexpected visitors before him, and in pursuit of a wife. Also, much like his predecessors.

Two factors, however, differentiated him from all the rest.

First was that his target was not 'whoever caught his fancy', which would invariably end up being Akane, as per norm, but the most beauteous fiery redhead that he had obsessed over since finding her image emblazoned upon a lost handkerchief, which the winds 'of fate' had blown through his palace windows and into his face one morning as he enjoyed his breakfasting. Ranma had been vaguely flattered, but mainly horrified at that realization, and it had quickly been discovered that not even the revelation of the curse would dissuade the new suitor. 'Nobody is perfect.' had been his exact words and dismissal of the reality, and had been followed up with an explanation of 'That's what magic is for.', which Ranma had felt was an ominous statement if ever there was one.

Second was that this prince was rich. Capital 'R' Rich, in fact, where all the prior ones had been Capital 'P' Poor. Apparently, his kingdom had long since discovered a spell to transform baser materials into the purest of gold, which had Nabiki and Genma both salivating like the latter at one of Nerima's increasingly rare All-you-can-eat buffets, and the former trying to find a way to talk, trick, or outright seduce her way into the position of 'designated bride'. Sadly, the prince had been unswayed by her, and she'd eventually resigned herself to a somewhat smaller prize.

That being, of course, the simply ludicrous sum, in cash, that the prince had offered to anyone who would assist him in swaying the reluctant apple of his eye into his bedchambers.

Much like his namesake, Ranma had spooked, and discovered that he had nowhere near as many allies as he would like. All his rivals had, naturally, signed up immediately to push for the 'happy marriage', save Kuno, as everyone felt it wisest to leave the Kuno's out of essentially everything, whenever it was safe to do so. Of the Tendo's, Kasumi was oblivious, Akane was too amused by the turn of situation to offer much help through her howling laughter, and Nabiki had rapidly conned the fathers into seeing things her way. His next attempt was to seek aid and shelter from his mother, or would have been except that the discovery of her son being romantically pursued by a _man_ would open a can of worms that he would rather put off until somewhere around the end of time. The other fiancee's had been less than helpful as well... Ukyou had seemed honestly intent on helping him, but had laced his Okonomiyaki with knockout-drugs, being a businesswoman to the last, and apparently holding _far_ too much faith in Ranma's ability to dodge bullets. The Amazons were quietly apathetic about the situation, and he came to the unpleasant discovery that they had somehow long since collected enough.... samples, of him, that Shampoo could bear up to a half-dozen of his progeny at any point in the future, and they had remained less out of any honest belief that they could actually ensnare him into the tribe and more for their own personal amusement at the happenings of Nerima.

Options having well and truly dried up, Ranma realized that it was time to perform the Saotome Final Technique and left Nerima, hitting several pit fights and odd jobs along the path of his flight, and finally reaching a harbor, where he chartered passage to China. He then went overboard a little more than a mile past the point where he could no longer see Japan on the horizon and swam back, having stopped for a moment and correctly deduced that the group which was no doubt already tracking him would, after following the trail to its conclusion, simply purchase airplane tickets to china and be there at the docks, smiling smugly, when the slower-moving passenger boat finally pulled in.

This gambit would give Ranma a little time to work with, at least, and consider the next move. In spite of everything, the Saotome's had never been particularly good at running away before, relying on the fact that most people would simply give up and call it a bad job all around after a certain distance had been crossed. When set against the sort of people who would actually track them to the ends of the earth, however, the simple 'run for a day or two' tactic stopped working entirely. Shampoo had been one such person, and had proven that truth. Nabiki, Ranma feared, would be another, especially with the scent of money in her nostrils and near-unlimited funds at her disposal, so that she could track her prey in comfort.

No, just running wouldn't work particularly well, in this situation. The best it could do would be to buy a little time before the pursuers caught up. What Ranma needed to do now... was to _disappear_. Quite simply, things needed to be arranged so that Ranma could not be found at all... in order to do that, of course, Ranma would have to sever all links to Nerima, and to Ranma Saotome, to forge a new identity out of whole cloth. That wouldn't be easy, to say the least. Not the smallest problem in the plan would be that Ranma, quite simply, wasn't sure he was actually capable of seamlessly blending in with normal people. Still, he'd have to try, especially as there was only so much time before Nabiki would certainly realize that she had been duped and was back on the hunt. Any plan was better than no plan.

So... beginning the crafting of a persona, what did normal people do? Two answers presented themselves to the question, School and Work, of some sort. Both of them were focused on relatively urban areas, and so Ranma changed course for a reasonably sized city, not to near or far from Nerima and not too large or small. The sort of place where a new arrival would be vaguely interesting, but easily overlooked by the general populace. Next was choosing which to pursue. While neither idea was particularly palatable, Ranma simply balked at the idea of voluntarily subjecting himself to school again, mildly traumatized by his experience with the Nerima Public Education System. Work it was, then.

Ranma entered the town by night, collected a copy of the most recent newspaper from an automatic dispenser, and flipped to the classifieds section, reading hastily by the light of the road lamps.

There wasn't much to choose from, unfortunately. The bad thing about quiet places such as this was that many jobs would be offered to family first, then friends, and only make their way to public availability if there were no interest from anyone of either category. There was an opening at an animal shelter- part time, low wages, and couldn't be allergic to cats. A definite no. An opening for an experienced hairstylist, which she didn't have the credentials for. A part-time assistant martial arts instructor opening sounded almost too good to be true, until Ranma belatedly realized that this sort of thing was exactly the sort of place that Nabiki would start off with, if it ever crossed her mind that Ranma might have settled into hiding with a need for cash influx. It was reluctantly struck off the list, as was the job of bouncer at one of the town's few nightclubs. That left.... A 'sanitation engineer', or garbage collector... a school custodian, or janitor... a Wal-Mart greeter... a fry cook... and a secretary of some sort. And an opening for maids, Ranma added, noting an ad that he had almost missed, with an attached map included rather than any other contact information.

Ranma hated to say it, but after weighing the benefits and drawbacks, he was actually leaning towards the maid. It seemed somehow less... humiliating, perhaps, than the other menial professions. Certainly, it would require that Ranma remain female all but full-time....

... but maybe, just maybe, that could actually be a good thing, he realized. After all, if he thought about it, they would be looking for _him_. He'd never made any bones about his distaste for being female, and given that he doubted any of the pursuers had much confidence in his strategic sense, outside an actual fight, they would be expecting him to, at the very least, remain male as often as possible. After all, water seemed to seek him out at the worst times, no doubt they were keeping eyes and ears wide open for any rumors about some guy turning into a girl in 'x' town.

And it was true that he'd not worked out any way to prevent water from seeking him out, or dodging the transformation when it did. In a cruel example of life's little ironies, however, the reverse was not at all true. Shortly after first learning the soul of ice, Ranma had thought up a variation of it which could be used to alter the temperature of water in midair, before it touched him... but only decreasing it. He had deemed the technique worse than useless for his interests, those being remaining male whenever possible, and had since attempted to reverse the effect. He'd not had any luck with it, and had stubbornly kept quiet about the water-chilling technique until such time as a breakthrough came.

Which meant that nobody knew of that technique, and gave him an extra measure of security. Ranma could prevent being found out by an accidental gender-swap... but only if he remained female.

Not for the first time, Ranma cursed the stupid, _stupid_ curse. But he couldn't spend long railing at fate's twisted sense of humor, knowing that time was running out swiftly. Only an hour of ground-thumping frustration later, Ranma resigned himself to the fact that this would be his last night as a male for what might well prove to be an unfortunately long time.

Having set that aside, Ranma ran inventory on what he had managed to tuck away in his bastardized variation of Mousse's hidden weapons technique. There was plenty of clothes to disguise himself with, significantly more costume clothing than anything he actually wore regularly, he realized with a dull confusion after spreading it all out to be seen. Many outfits that he couldn't at all remember disguising himself in, and only vaguely recalled having noted would suit as a temporary disguise at some point and purchasing but, it seemed, never actually using. The sheer number of shoes was almost unnatural, when he sat back and counted his hoard.

He selected an outfit and replaced the rest, vainly attempting to push away the troubled thoughts about his possessions, and why on earth he even _owned_ a full make-up kit when the most he could recall using was maybe lipstick, once, on a slightly less half-assed disguise one time.

Ranma considered what else would be neccessary. There wasn't much to be done about her face, and a chest-wrap would be slightly uncomfortable, but enough to disguise her actual body proportions from a cursory once over, as long as the uniform didn't have cleavage, anyway, but hair....

The pigtail was Ranma's most defining feature. Ranma loved that pigtail, worn as proof that he could keep his hair long and not have to worry about the risk of it being used against him because he was just. That. Skilled. And so they would definitely be looking for a man or redheaded woman with a pigtail, which meant that it had to go.

Ranma stoically took the scissors to his cherished locks without shedding a single tear..... okay, maybe just one or two escaped, because of just how much he sentimentally cherished that pigtail. But dammit, they were manly tears, and nobody could prove different. He continued on, clipping it shorter little by little, until it reached the point where it drifted up into soft tufts of hair, mimicking the sort of spikes that would normally take several hours of maintenance a day and some expensive products. It was almost anime-hair, he noted with a dour sense of disgust, collecting all the shed hairs to be burned in what was now progressing past caution and into levels that could only be considered outright paranoia.

He made it look good, though. And so would she.

There was one more item to finish the construction, which unfortunately Ranma didn't have on hand. With appearance suitably changed enough that he wouldn't immediately fit a description of 'Ranma Saotome', and not wearing his traditional tangs, he collected a small brown hair-dye kit from the local shop and left town once more, improvising facilities to change her noticeable hair color, and bidding farewell to masculinity as dawn broke.

She botched it right away, of course, having never attempted this sort of thing before, and somehow ended up with a set of bubblegum pink locks after washing the bleach meant to remove all color from her hair out far too soon. She broke a large rock into pebbles out of sheer frustration from the hassle, but eventually decided this was just as good, in a way. After all, even if they somehow figured out he had bought hair dye, they would be looking for brown hair. Not... this. And while noticeable, pink hair was very much not something Ranma would have picked for herself, and so threw another accidental advantage into things.

She dressed carefully, examining her reflection in a handheld mirror. Some woman she'd never seen before looked back, wearing a long-sleeved blouse and slacks, cutting an interesting picture with the odd hairstyle. If she didn't know she was looking at herself, she'd say that this person was some rebellious teenager freshly kicked out of home, and only just starting to adjust herself enough to fit in to get a job. This person would probably have a rich and fascinating backstory and, most importantly to her purposes, this person was very clearly not Ranma in any way.

Nodding to herself, she put the mirror away and calculated time. If she was correct, then she had perhaps another hour remaining before the ship she had abandoned put in at China. From then, perhaps a half-day before the Nerima crew were back in Japan and passing out reward signs featuring a pigtailed doodle.

With any luck, that would leave her just enough time to get employed and be just one more face in the crowd by the time any of Nabiki's blackmailed contacts turned their eyes this way.

xxx

A.N.

Another half chapter for you! Actually, I saw something very much like this somewhere else, but that was an SM cross, and if a plot works reasonably well for someone else, I might as well take it and beat it with a hammer a few times until it fits, no?

So, three guesses who's hiring maids, and the first two don't count. The rest of the plot, if I can think one up besides 'lol, this would be neat', will have to wait until such time as I update this from a teaser to a full chapter. You know, if that ever actually happens.


	19. HP, Tohou: title undecided

In the great hall of Hogwarts, as the Sorting Hat's song droned down to its final, warbling note, there was a sudden and loud eruption of smoke. While a great deal of attention was afforded to the sudden display, little heed was taken of its importance, as all and sundry made the reasonable assumption that the Weasley twins, incorrigible pranksters, had simply decided to begin taking their amusements earlier than was their norm.

As the smoke dispersed, a number of young ladies stood eyeing their surroundings with apparent interest.

"The striking lack of poles, banana hammocks, and strobing light effects leads me to believe... that this is _not_, in fact, the women's entertainment club we were promised." A young lady wearing what the assembled teachers could only think of as a set of pale purple pajamas of some sort, this hypothesis validated somewhat by the carefully placed crescent moon that seemed to be part and parcel of her nightcap stated dryly, eying one of her companions. Closer inspection bore the startling realization that this girl was also floating a handful of centimeters off of the ground, a point that had been missed when presented with her attire.

"It _might_ be. You never know. They might be having a European Dark Ages Culture night." The target of the first speaker's ire ventured. She, for her part, was wearing something closer to acceptable for a young woman's attire, although the short sleeves of her black dress were quite immodest. She gained a point or two, however, when the hat was taken into account, the assembled witches agreed. It was a very nice hat, pointed as was the custom, but at the same time very little like the stiff, conical monstrosities that had long fallen out of style.

"That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard, Marisa, and I've heard quite a few ridiculous things from your mouth. I think you just flubbed the spell's target co-ordinates."

"Excuse me...." Albus Dumbledore interrupted, having risen from his seat in an attempt to control the unexpected turn of events and return his school to its comfortable status quo, clapping a hand gently against the young witches back in a grandfatherly display.

Or at least, that had been his intent, save that Marisa had immediately spun around at the first word. There was a long moment of very still silence as the two of them looked down, to where the aged Headmaster's hand was now clamped firmly onto the young woman's chest. His hand twitched involuntarily, and he mentally revised the visitor's estimated age upwards another year or so, even as his self-preservation instinct, well honed by years of surviving the honor of being the number one target of all of England's dark wizards, began screaming at him to turn tail and flee.

"Love sign...." Marisa said, voice beginning at a mumble, but rapidly rising to a top-of-the-lungs shriek. ".... MASTER SPARK!"

The next few moments were something of a cobbled together haze of bright, bright light and pain, and the Headmaster had never been so very grateful for the fact that a wizard's durability increased in proportion to his age and power as he was when he blinked the spots out of his eyes and found himself imbedded at the very center of a new, large crater in Hogwarts' thick, stone walls, well above ground level. The young lady he had accidentally molested huffed and glowered darkly at him before turning sharply away.

"Yes, well, enough of the comedic theatrics." said one of the other ladies, this one with what appeared to be functional, albeit oversized, bat wings. "This is, perhaps, less opportune, however we make of the situation what we may. Greetings, plebians!" She said, turning the focus of her attention to the confused crowd. "You are honored this night to be graced with the company of myself, Remilia Scarlet. No, there is no need to stand, I perfectly understand your desire to shower your adulations upon me, however that shall not be neccessary. Some few of you, however, shall be honored still further than my mere presence, although it is understandable that the memory of such shall still light the dreary, humble hours of those less fortunate than they. I shall explain immediately!"

Remilia coughed into one fist.

"We hail from the mystic lands of Gensokyo, seperated from the rest of the world by magics most powerful, however it has been made quite clear over recent centuries that these magics themselves are having an unfortunate effect upon the lands inhabitants. Put in terms that might be more easily understood by plebian ears, birth rates have been significantly affected, such that the number of female births have skyrocketed, while in comparison the number of male births has done quite the revers, to the point that Gensokyo, as it is at this moment, harbors a male to female ratio of approximately one to twenty five. As such, all new male births are noted and by the end of their first year, suitable matches have been arranged and contested, and anywhere between one to three are secured. However! Certain of our number have been waiting significant lengths of time for the opportunity to secure such matches for ourselves, have grown frustrated with the effort, and as such have decided upon alternate plans."

She smiled, revealing far too much in the way of fang for the comfort of any of the students.

"As such, I would be very much obliged to those plebians that would remain calm and orderly, as we shall currently be selecting, collecting, and abducting superior breeding stock from your number."

Chaos erupted as the Great Hall became a flurry of motion as the newcomers swept through the teeming crowd of frantic bodies, selecting as fit their designs, and poofing out in smaller clouds of smoke with their captives. Dumbledore managed to wriggle enough to finally pop out of his near-entombment and slam face-first into the ground near the very end of things, and by the time he gathered enough strength to rise, any chance he might have had at putting a stop to things had long since flown.

"Attention!" he said, after managing, rattled as he was, to place a sonorous charm upon himself. "Please return to your seats and a brief head-count will be taken."

After having done so, Slytherin House as a whole seemed almost offended, as it was clear at a glance that they had been, for whatever reason, entirely untouched by the sudden raid of men-folk. The other houses were all missing numbers, and it was with a great start that Albus noted that not even the staff had been untouched, although Severus was still there, and scowling darkly at the table.

It was the heavily picked-over crowd of new first-years that gave him most cause for concern, however, as it was clearly obvious at no more than a moment's scrutiny that the thinned ranks no longer included one particularly important boy, Harry James Potter.

"Oh dear..." He mumbled softly into his beard, not sure what to do at this unexpected turn of events.

xxx

A.N.

Yay Teasers! This is the product of a whole lot of slightly weird lines of thought coming together into one really weird conglomeration. No title as yet, because I haven't decided where I might go with this, or even if I'll go anywhere at all. I have considered, however, 'Mars needs Men', 'Harry Potter's Excellent Adventure', and 'Power he knows not, Love Sign Extraordinaire/Extravaganza!'.

In leiu of further banter, I'll just go through some of the crack couples/triples.

Patchouli Knowledge and Hagrid.

Patchy: "I chose him because it's obvious, even at a glance, that he has a very powerful constitution, and my own propensity to sickliness is hereditary. As such, any potential children of such a union could theoretically have such propensities bred out of them. Also, given how large he is, it's quite likely that he also has a very large-"

Remilia Scarlet and The Weasley Twins

R: "Do you have a problem? They smelled very.... tasty. And it's not like I won't be sharing them with little Flandre anyway. Supervised, of course.

Youmu Konpaku and Neville Longbottom and Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington

Y: "Half-ghost. Half non-ghost. So, one for both. I don't see that there should be any problem with that."

Marisa and Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy

M: "Well, they were the cutest. Obviously, I couldn't _not_ take them both home with me, could I?"

And right about here I run out of clever witticisms and stuff, so I'll just admit that I might have just picked names at random and think up reasons later...

Alice Margatroyd and Filius Flitwick

Sakuya Izayoi and Cedric Diggory

Hong Meilin and a random pair of Hufflepuffs

Suika Ibuki and Seamus Finnegan

Reimu Hakurei and Terry Boot

etc, etc, etc, etc.... all the names I can think of on the top of my head. Oh, also, maybe later on if I bother-

Chen and Sirius Black

and/or

Ran Yakumo and Remus Lupin


	20. Ranma, SM: Shades of Grey

_A master of sorceries instead of sciences. Ranma ended up going to war with the dark armies of Mettalia by.... summoning up his own dark armies to combat them. An acquaintance, Sailor Moon, suddenly wasn't seeing the world in black and white anymore. This new shades-of-grey mentality said very bad things for Crystal Tokyo..._

...And that simply wouldn't do. Setsuna moved to counter this newest twist, vague thoughts of infanticide floating through her head, just before the Gates went completely dark.

_"Overclock mode at critical level. System crash imminent. Initiating full shutdown, cooldown phase, and reboot, in accordance with Serenity Protocol 11Z-0777X49. Shutdown in three.. two..."_

"No! I'm not done!" Setsuna barked, attempting and failing to bring to bear some measure of control over the situation. The gates simply stood there, dark and silent and cold, as though mocking her efforts.

Cooldown phase lasted a long time, if she recalled correctly. That could be a problem. Depending upon how long it lasted, any amount of time could pass on earth, and while she could meddle with the lives of others as she pleased... the Senshi were sacrosanct, for the most part. Once someone had come into actual contact with any of the Senshi, to any real degree, then they, also, became untouchable.

Her greatest advantage, and her greatest disadvantage, was that time flowed differently between this place and Earth. And so, once the gates had come back online, she might still have enough time to fix the Ranma problem. Of course... she might not. The best course of action, then, would be to use the time available to plan out a way to deal with the interloper more directly.

xxx

Shades of Grey

xxx

Ranma was pain. He had long since passed the levels of simply being _in_ pain, and transcended to a point where the throbbing agony suffused itself throughout his entire body, seeming to be an indescribable part of himself, such that it was difficult to recall a time without the pain.

The Neko-ken training was the cause. The first attempt had been bad, as the process hadn't been fully explained to him, and he had only known enough to jump in the pit. He had been removed from it hours later, a mass of deep scratches and quietly sobbing.

He had not learned the technique. As such, he had been put back in the pit the next day, and somehow the second time had been so much worse for the knowing of what was in store for him.

It was only after the third time that the training was called to a halt, as one of the mangy tomcats had been fast enough to slip into his guard before he had the chance to curl into a protective fetal position, and the raking claws had heavily scored his face, absolutely ruining his left eye.

Somehow, he had known from the moment the claw set in that it would be beyond all repair. Genma, however, insisted that it was clearly a matter of looking worse than it was, even as he rushed his son to the hospital, fully expecting to be able to collect him within a day or two, no worse for the wear, and capable of going right back into the training.

The ruined eye had completely occupied the doctor's attention for the first couple of days of surgery, only after which they turned to the seemingly less-important wounds, only to discover that gangrene had set in to some of the deepest scratches, and had begun progressing unnaturally rapidly, to the point where it was already life-threatening.

When Ranma finally came off the painkillers, he could feel the lattice-work of gruesome, ropy scars all over his body, where the surgeons had had to deepen and extend the wounds so that they could burn out the infection and sterilize it. His right leg came to an abrupt end just below the knee, and his left arm was missing entirely, the infection having set so deeply there that the only option remaining was immediate amputation. It was due to this that he did not immediately notice Genma standing above him, frowning deeply. His words, however, caught the boy's attention.

Failure. Better off dead. Useless. Hideous. Disowned.

He tried to protest, only to find the constrictive bandages around his throat combining with the damage there to prevent anything more than a strangled sob. Genma snorted and left, as Ranma sank into an inner turmoil.

Ranma slipped into a coma for the next few weeks, while his body healed, and was expected to remain as he was for months more, possibly years. It was quite a surprise, then, that one morning an orderly entered his room to find the bedsheets scattered, the window wide open, and the boy gone.

It was simply to Ranma's fortune that the coma ward was on the ground level, as it would be further weeks still, as he staggered through the wilderness, aided by a gnarled walking stick found on the ground and his memories of Genma's survival lessons, as well as the occasional urban incursion for bouts of theft and outright begging before he began to approach a level where he could make such drops safely again.

He crossed paths with a few people, as he wandered. For the most part, they were martial artists in training, but the mingled pity and revulsion that was clear in their eyes upon seeing him was enough to prevent them from taking the boy seriously as one of their number.

That was fine. In all honesty, Ranma himself could no longer truly consider himself as a martial artist anymore, forced to hobble along with aid of rotting sticks, gauze wrapped around his head to cover an empty socket, skill steadily atrophying with his incapability to train with only one arm and foot...

It was months of this aimless, desperate, depressed wandering, seeking some way of filling the endless void within himself which once had held his art, when he crossed paths with him.

His name, or rather the name by which he was known and adressed, was Lucius Grey, chosen, in part, based upon a series of children's novels which he had once read and been quite amused by. It was not his true name, of course, as such have power when placed in the hands of those who knew how to use them, though he did not explain this to Ranma upon their meeting, and it would be a some time before the boy came to understand this.

However, there was neither pity nor revulsion in his slate-grey eyes. He did not turn his gaze from Ranma's horrible scars, frown at the sight of his hobbling along, or wince at the boy's raspy, damaged voice. Lucius did nothing but treat Ranma exactly the same as he did any other traveller they passed, and Ranma found himself revelling in the treatment. He found himself following the older man and, one day, watched in town as the man paid for a walking stick, Ranma's having broken not hours before and sent him tumbling to the ground, with a handful of leaves which nobody seemed to realize weren't valid and legal tender.

Lucius had been quite surprised, later, when questioned upon the leaves, and for a moment his gaze had turned calculating.

After that, a little more of Lucius was drawn out of the man's web of secrecy. He was not, as he had claimed, merely backpacking through Japan for his own personal enjoyment, while on vacation from his stressful banking career. Indeed, he wasn't a banker at all, but a magician, or a wizard, or a sorceror, as he used the terms near-interchangably, from the west, and had come to study 'the Eastern way of doing things', and had learned quite a bit, as he later demonstrated to Ranma. That anyone could have noticed something wrong when he'd paid, he explained, was a hint to that person's potential with magical arts. To actually see that it was not currency in his hand, piercing the man's illusion, weak though it was...? It would be criminal to leave such a person without instruction.

Ranma had finally found a new purpose in his life, as for the next several years he became Master Grey's dutiful apprentice and student in magics, his rate of learning exceeding even that of when he had studied the martial arts beneath his father, in his desperation to prove that he was not useless, not a failure... that there was some point to his continued existence.

They began shortly before spring, and for nearly the next year Ranma's magical ability grew by leaps and bounds. They would catch rabbits and spill their lifeblood to call forth the fae spirits and creatures of the elements, and bind them to tasks and items, study alchemical arts of transformation, the changing of one thing into another, the befuddling arts of illusions and other spellcrafts, and in the darkness of night they would call forth weak demons of many varieties, safely trapped withing many-layered seals carefully carved into the earth. Ranma fashioned wooden replacements for his maimed limbs, binding to them forest spirits under the watchful eyes of his master, to allow them to mimic the movement of real flesh, allowing him once more to walk without aid, marveling at their warmth and life.

And then, nearly a year after his study began, on the night of the winter solstice, Ranma woke to find himself stripped and securely bound to a crude altar. Lucius was dissapointed that he had woken, as the drugs he had used should have been effective for hours yet, and it was not yet midnight. It was his intent, he explained, to sacrifice Ranma's life to a powerful demon, and in so doing take a portion of Ranma's youth and magical power for himself, increasing his power and extending his lifespan, as he had done to several students before him. He would not at all have bothered teaching so much, but he had not expected Ranma to be such a quick study, and could not cease instruction with no explanation, else suspicions would arise and, after all, the sacrifice could only take place upon the one night of the year.

Ranma let bitter tears fall at the fresh betrayal and, checking the moon's position, he lifted a silvery blade high into the air. At the same moment, in a desperate effort, Ranma released the spirits bound within his wooden limbs, through willpower alone and without any form of intoned spell or sacrifice, and temporarily lost consciousness from the effort.

Upon forcing his eyes back open, the havoc the spirits had left behind was clearly visible. The camp, which had been placed in an empty field, was now heavily overgrown with entangling thorny vines and small trees. What had once been Lucius Grey was now a horrible mess of torn and ripped flesh, a small tree growing right through his center of mass, and limbs torn free and pierced by thorns. A soft gurgle indicated that he was, somehow, still alive.

Grey had certainly taken the worst of it. Ranma, on the other hand, was by no means untouched by the ordeal, although he had been lightly marked in comparison, fortunately enough. His prosthetics had crumbled away to sawdust the moment that the spirits had been set loose, leaving him a little wiggle room in those bindings, but he was now entangled in a webwork of thorny vines, puncturing his skin in many places and constricting greatly. Every move he made, while relieving the focus on some, seemed to drive others still painfully deeper, making his escape from them a slow work of many hours. By the time he finally freed himself and collapsed off of the table and into a patch of still more thorns, dawn had long since broken, and his treacherous instructor had ceased to move in any way, or make any noise, as flies gathered to the scent of blood.

Ranma left the knife Grey had dropped where it was, but broke one of the saplings to fashion into a walking stick and scavenged what he could from the ruined campsite. Leaving behind the cooled corpse of the man he had once respected, he hobbled along, once more uncertain about a great many things.

xxx

A.N.

Little spin-off prologue, because someone in a review once mentioned that they wouldn't mind reading this, and I finally got around to it. When I _should_ be studying for a math test, go figure.


	21. Ranma, Tohou: Carried Off

"Ranma! Save us!" The demand came, the moment that he returned from school, prompting a sigh as he took in the sight before him.

It wasn't at all an out-of-the-ordinary request, either. Hardly a week went by without someone yelling for him to save them. This time, however, was a _litte_ different somehow. He had saved a lot of people, including almost every one of the Tendos, his father, his mother, the other fiancees, his rivals fromtime to time, and a number of people just out and about Nerima who simply fell under the 'Innocent Bystander' category, and he was used to saving them from clearly present and unmistakable things. Rampaging martial artists, angry dragons and phoenix gods, stampeding buffalo, giant ghost cats, even Happosai if he absolutely had to.

On such scales, what seemed to be a little girl usually didn't even register.

"What's wrong?" Akane asked just before Ranma could, inadvertently allowing Ranma to step back and assess the situation, something he was rarely allowed to in other situations such as this, only dimly listening to Soun wail about being challenged to a fight, the stakes being food and Sake, and how the little girl was eating more than Ranma and Genma combined and was going to break the dojo's budget, and the fathers hadn't managed to make her leave, and on and on and on...

"I'll take care of it then. You should know by now that Ranma doesn't fight girls, Dad." Akane decided, jerking Ranma's attention away.

"Wait, _what_?" He wondered aloud. "I don't fight girls? What gave you that impression."

"Of course you don't fight-"

"Shampoo." Ranma stated flatly, raising a single finger as though to tick off the name, then added a second. "Ukyou. Cologne. Kodachi. Azusa. That noodle delivery girl, Kaori. Pink and Link. Rouge. And that's just the memorable ones."

"But-!" Akane insisted, sure of herself and not willing to back down in the face of logic and evidence.

"Look, have I ever once actually said anything like 'I don't fight girls'?" He asked plainly. "No. So don't put words in my mouth! 'Sides, this one's a little much for you, I think."

"She's a _little girl_." Akane stressed, fists clenching slowly.

"She's oni." Ranma deadpanned, getting a raised eyebrow and a smirk from the little girl in question.

"What gave it away."

"The horns." Ranma deadpanned again. "Also, that you're drinking heavier than my old man usually does, and I'm not seeing any real effect, but mainly the horns."

The oni nodded somberly, drawing attention to the horns in question and forcing Akane to wonder just how she hadn't immediately noticed something so blindingly obvious.

"So, you gonna give it a shot?" The oni wondered aloud.

"Don't rush me... I'm thinking. I don't suppose that if I ignored you, you'd just go away eventually?"

Akane's elbow and Soun's heel, coupled with a bellow about how he _had_ to accept all challengers, and ignoring that the oni wasn't actually doing any challenging at the moment, showed exactly what they thought about that idea.

"Yeah, that's about what I figured." Ranma mumbled through a mouthful of floorboard. "So yeah. I guess I am."

"Alright! I'm Suika, of Ibuki clan, and if I win.... hm. Do you have anything I might want?" She wondered.

"Aside from the five hundred yen in my other pants? Not really." He admitted.

"No help for it then. So if I win, I'll just do the traditional thing, and carry you away!"

"That's how it is, huh?" Ranma grumbled. "So, what would happen after that?"

"Huh? After?" Suika wondered. "I think I'm supposed to eat you. Or ravage you. Or both, maybe. You look tasty though, so I'm sure we'll have fun finding out however it goes!" She said cheerfully.

"Ranma.... you _lolicon_!" Akane yelled, having gone steadily more incandescently red since the word 'ravage' had entered the equation, and punched him into a wall.

"Yeah..." Ranma said after stepping back through the hole, cracking his knuckles. "Can't say I'm keen on being eaten. But then, I'm not planning on losing, either. I'm Ranma Saotome, of the Saotome-ryu, and if I win then you have to call it square with Mr. Tendo and leave, okay?"

"Sure, why not! I don't plan on losing either, though. Ibuki clan takes great pride in our strength."

"Well then, let's-" Soun managed to get out before Ranma threw himself to the side and out of the house, barely dodging a punch that seemed to leave the air rippling around it for a moment before Suika leapt after him, the afterimage she had left behind wavering then fading away.

From the first pass, Ranma knew this would be a difficult fight. Suika was, all things considered, roughly as fast as his girl-form, and if he was judging accurately then she had enough power behind those fists to knock the wind out of Ryoga for a little while. Given that he had, foolishly in retrospect, never actually gone through the Breaking Point training himself, if he allowed the oni to land a blow then it would seriously mess up his day. He was having to go all out right from the bat.

And then, apparently sensing they were at a sort of stalemate, Suika upped the ante and things began to get ridiculously difficult with the new tricks she brought to bear. After all, just growing really big for a short time or throwing a really big rock really fast was one thing, and even the fireballs and breath had some precedent.

Throwing around what could only be described as temporary, miniature black holes, which wrecked the Tendo's yard, and turning herself into mist just as he was about to land a solid hit, and turning back to counterattack and force him to scramble out of the way... that was just plain unfair. Within a minute, the landscaping could almost be considered beyond repair, and he had twice had to quickly pat out fires that had caught onto his second favorite silk shirt before simply discarding it.

For his part, he had picked up that his chi-blasts still had some effect on her while she was mist, and could work with that, although Suika tended to dodge them with almost depressing ease if she was embodied at the time. He'd barely needed Genma's shouted advice to sink into the umi-sen-ken and start making like a ninja.... and then, after getting off barely two sneak attacks on the oni, things had gone just straight to hell.

Her thought process was clearly obvious, considering what it lead to. She couldn't see Ranma anymore. Therefore, he could be hidden and attack from anywhere in the nearby area. So, everywhere in the nearby area was someplace he could potentially be, and should be attacked to see if he was there. So what could be a better idea than _attacking everything in the general area all at once_, to minimize the chance of missing and getting countered?

The next minute or so had been an implacable hurricane of energy, and he'd been forced to drop out of the umi with an unfortunate, glancing blow early on, followed by dozens more just like it, leaving him heavily battered by the time one of the orbs caught him full on and slammed him into the stone wall. It had been inevitable, given that he doubted he could produce as many of his own chi-blasts all at once without passing out from the strain, and Suika didn't even seem a little bothered by the effort, suggesting she could hold it all day if need be.

And then, adding injury to insult, she had dropped the technique the moment he was hit, charging in behind it to deal a crushing body blow with a flying headbutt before he had even started to bounce from the initial impact.

Result, a moment of blinding agony, a deep impact crater in the wall to fall out of, and, upon coughing into his hand after dropping to his knees, enough blood to be taken as evidence of serious, possibly debilitating internal injuries that would have to be dealt with really soon.

"I win!" Suika declared cheerfully before Ranma stood, wobbling heavily, blood pouring from the corner of his mouth.

"Not yet..." He rasped, muscling his way past the pain, knowing that this was a bad idea but forced into it by his own code and bravado. "I haven't lost... until I lose consciousness.... and can't fight at all."

"Okay." Suika agreed, immediately followed by another burst of blinding pain as her fist was buried deeply into his stomach. The world swam before his eyes as he collapsed once more to his knees.

"All right." Suika said, the words seeming distorted, as though she were talking from the bottom of a well. "I'll be carrying you away now!"

There was a sharp, metallic click and a weight settled about his neck, before the whole world went black.

xxx

A.N

I WANT TO WRITE THIS. May or may not actually do so, but I want to. My brain seriously would not leave me alone until I had typed this up.

_Pettan Pettan, Tsurupettan~_


	22. Zero's Misfortune

Zero's Misfortune

xxx

The first day of the second year of magical study was important. On this day, a special ritual was invoked by the students, a spell cast in a sacred rite of passage, which would forever bind them to a familiar.

The results of the day would vary wildly. It was not uncommon, for example, for the familiar summoned to be a simple alley-cat, or toad, or raven. In the same light, it was not uncommon for the familiar to be of a more interesting sort, such as a burning salamander, or a griffon cub or basilisk. Dragon hatchlings were very rare, but familiars to take pride in.

Generally, however, there was a vague theme to the summonings. There were five elements to the study of magic... Air, Water, Fire, and Earth, as well as the lost element of Void. As such, if a magician held a particular affinity towards water, that would somewhat skew the summoning towards things similarly related towards water. Frogs and newts, oozes, and many varieties of undine and water spirits, for example, though it wasn't unknown for the summoning to result in a familiar of a completely differing nature. Such situations generally resulted in, and even forced the magician to become more proficient in that element, whether or not they had previously held any such inclination.

Louise Francoise le Blanc de la Valiere was in the near-unique situation of having clawed her way through the first year of her magical instruction without showing so much as a hint of talent towards the elements. She did, however, have an unfortunate sort of talent for creating the most bizarre botchings of what should have been perfectly safe, simple spells, usually turning them into decidedly large and unsafe explosions. Of course, there were those days when she erred in more... unique fashions, causing those not outside of the minimum safe distance to weep and wish fervently for something so simple as light burns and having to wait for their eyebrows to grow back in.

As such, when Louise the Zero stepped up to take her turn in summoning a familiar, the rest of the gathered mages were watching carefully, at the same time both dreadfully fascinated with wondering what Louise might summon as a familiar, and stretching their legs in preparation for even the slightest hint that indicated the area was soon to become a magical ground zero.

There were no explosions, thankfully enough, but the interest in the occasion was not to go unrewarded, as the summoning was completed.

"Human..." the mutter arose at the figure within the pentagram. "Human." "It's human?" "Shouldn't have expected normal... Louise the Zero..."

"Peasant?" Louise said softly, stunned for a moment herself, but hearing the rapidly increasing whispers and recognizing the need to do something. "This... this doesn't count. This can't count! I have to try again."

"Unfortunately, while the results are most.... unusual...." The proctor began, dubiously eyeing the doll carrying young woman, who even now was blinking slowly and carefully scrutinizing the surroundings. "I'm afraid that won't be possible. The summoning ritual is a sacred rite, which determines one's place and role within society. To allow a... a 'do-over', it would make a mockery of the whole process."

"But-!" Louise began, trailing off into a dismayed frown at the proctor's general stern implacability. Without a further word said, she turned back to her new familiar and intoned the final words of the spell, sealing the pact with a kiss.....

Or, at least, that was what she had intended to do. What actually happened was that she walked up to arms-reach of the other girl, and suddenly found her forward momentum completely halted by the palm resting on her forehead. Her initial attempt to brush the gloved arm aside met with resistance as well, more suited towards that of metal statuary than flesh and blood.

"That... was an experience. I think I won't be doing that again." The girl said dryly, even as Louise discovered that somehow, the girl's fingers were holding her head in place as effectively as a vice. She frowned as she looked up, her gaze focusing on the two moons dimly visible in the daytime.

"Well... what do you make of that?" She wondered rhetorically. "Somehow, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto."

"Don't call me that, boss..." The puppet whined. This had scarcely left its mouth before the whisper of 'Mage...?' could be heard echoing through the area, and a distinctly black cast fell over the girl's face.

"_Who_ said that?" She all but snarled, bodily lifting Loise out of the way with one hand to get a better look at the crowd, glaring and ignoring the girl's startled and mildly pained struggles in the same way that she might ignore a particularly inoffensive insect. A long moment passed, in which none of the crowd drew any particular attention to themselves.

"Put... Me... _Down_!" Louise growled, drawing a look so bland from the other girl that one could almost believe that she had honestly forgotten about the slightly smaller girl, whose toes were currently dangling about an inch off the ground.

She tossed her, neither particularly gently or roughly, and Loise stumbled and landed awkwardly on her posterior, hissing softly from the impact.

"The nerve.. peasant... I should..." She muttered incoherently to herself as she rose.

"Look." Ranma said flatly, crossing her arms, Zero having shifted around and perched on top of her head, leering widely at the crowd of onlookers in the same way a hungry, rabid wolverine might eye a flock of sheep. "This has been swell. I've been having a pretty good day so far, and so I'm in a pretty generous and forgiving mood, barely homicidal at all. So, here's the deal I'm going to cut you. Reverse this... magic spell thingy, send me back to where I was, and I won't bother to remember your faces so I can track you all down to horribly murder you later."

"You really should." Zero chirped up. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Literally!"

"Erm..." The proctor began awkwardly.

"Whaaats that I hear?" Ranma said sharply. "Do I hear something? I'll tell you what I'm _not_ hearing. I'm _not _hearing the sound of you reversing this thing to send me home, that's what I'm not hearing! You should probably get moving on that, because that good mood I was talking about earlier? Yeah, can't see that holding out too much longer at this rate."

"I... I'm terribly sorry...." The browbeaten proctor said, not quite sure exactly how it was that he was so rapidly being verbally intimidated and beaten into submission. "But, the summoning is... well, I'm afraid it's designed to be one way only."

There was a long moment of silence as the corners of Ranma's mouth dropped as though they were stapled to lead weights.

"Ah. I see. Of course, you realize, I'm now feeling _significantly_ more murderous than I was thirty seconds ago." She said, ominously cracking the fingers of her gloved hand.

"Enough of this!" Louise barked, striding confidently forward, secure in the knowledge that, in the end, this unusually strong, loud, frustrating peasant girl would bow to her superiors. "Peasant! I have summoned you to serve as my familar. You will submit!"

She almost instantly reconsidered her words as the gloved hand clamped down on the top of her head. As the fingers tightened, and she was lifted up and forward to stare into a perfectly impassive face and two eyes that seemed to be as cold as if they had been chipped from ice, she realized that she was, in fact, sincerely regretful of them.

"Familiar... your magic servant.... huh?" Ranma said, very slowly and in monotone. "You're a little late to the party. You see, I'm already in the service of a powerful mage. And I'm not particularly happy about even that. You know what I did to her, not long after I got stuck with the contract?" She asked softly, voice still in an eerie monotone, that nonetheless carried throughout the area. "You don't want to know? Don't you? I _stabbed_ her. I stabbed her _in the chest, with my arm_. She survived, of course. I only destroyed the witches heart and a single lung with the thrust, and those healed with minimal effort. Truth be told, I don't think there actually is anything within my power to do that would kill her for good. I have all kinds of fun trying, though. Oh! I remember that time... I did that one thing with her wardrobe, and the arrow launchers. The many, many arrow launchers. Wasn't _she_ surprised that morning, when she woke and made to select her clothing for the day. Oh we've had _so_ many laughs about these little jests of mine, Evangeline and I. So much _fun_ we've had, the two of us. Oh, the garlic incident! Shall I tell you about the garlic incident? Would you like to hear about the garlic incident?"

"N... no..." Louise managed, her face having drained of blood and her mouth gone very dry at some point. Wordlessly, Ranma set her down, and she discovered that her knees had gone all weak and rubbery as she slumped to an awkward seat, and Ranma gave a horrible, sweet and cheerful smile.

"Hm... so... what was that you said, about..... what was it, a familiar?"

xxx

A.N.

And at this point, I've created enough AU Ranmas that I could probably leave that canon fellow alone completely whenever I actually write something. Of course, not all of them mesh exactly _well_ with every potential storyline possibility, but eh. Personal amusement. If I wanted to make a serious story out of this, I'd grab someone else.

Might well actually do that, either for an actual story, or for more misfortune shorts in this vein. Still, this one just boils down to 'Fifteen minutes of Ranma tormenting mages, followed by reluctantly contacting Evangeline and getting teleported back'. Good snippet, not much more.


	23. Zero's Misfortune?

Zero's Misfortune?

xxx

The first day of the second year of magical study was important. On this day, a special ritual was invoked by the students, a spell cast in a sacred rite of passage, which would forever bind them to a familiar.

BLAH BLAH BLAH, SAME TEXT AS PREVIOUS, LET'S JUST FAST FORWARD FOR NOW.

"Human..." the mutter arose at the figure within the pentagram. "Human." "It's human?" "Shouldn't have expected normal... Louise the Zero..."

"It's..." Louise trailed off as she stared at the figure. For a moment, she'd been about to say 'A peasant', however, as the initial shock wore off, she quickly began to note that he wasn't likely a peasant at all. The elaborately decorated overcoat alone likely proved otherwise. "... There must be some mistake." She said instead. "Proctor-"

"The summoning may only be performed once." The man said quickly, having divined what she was about to request. "No matter how... unusual..."

"Pardon me." The overcoated man said blandly. "I'm afraid I'm slightly uncertain as to what has just happened. Am I correct in assuming that I have been summoned to this place somehow?"

"You would be correct." The proctor agreed, nodding.

"Ah! I see. It is odd, however." The man continued, while inspecting the array of lines and geometric patterns surrounding him. "Generally speaking, when I find myself suddenly whisked away from my throneroom by magics, I find myself either suddenly thrust into the midst of a screaming horde of beings purely intent on my destruction or, equally suddenly and awkwardly, the centerpiece of a marriage ceremony. This, it seems, is neither."

He paused, looking up and dubiously eying Louise.

"Unless," he allowed "the marriage ceremonies of wherever this place may be are _vastly_ different from those to which I am familiar with."

"J-JUST WHAT ARE YOU IMPLYING!?" Louise yelled, drowning out the proctor's '.... throneroom?'. Just as well, as a near-palpable aura of Impending Doom had settled over the middle-aged man's features and heavily colored the word.

"Ah? I mean no slight to yourself, young lady, but I prefer my potential marriage partners to be... well, how should I phrase this?" He said, weighing words mentally until he found the perfect one. "Oh yes! Pubescent."

"How DARE you!" Louise shrilled in response, fist tightening dangerously around her wand. "I'll have you know that I, Louise Francois le Blanc de la Valierre, am the height of the fragile flower of noble beauty at my tender sixteen years of age! As one who has been summoned to serve as my familiar, you should at least show a modicum of respect-!"

"... Sixteen?" the man said, his voice simply radiating doubt. "You have my apologies, then. And my condolences."

"You-!"

"In any case, it has been too long already. My court is no doubt frantic over my disappearance, and I must send word."

"I'm afraid that may not be poss... ible.." the proctor began, only to wind down to nothing as the man snapped his fingers and a black rift tore itself open in the air before him. Almost immediately, a vaguely feminine, clearly monstrous form... flowed, for lack of a better word, through the rift, landing feet first and snapping into a clearly military salute.

**"Hail!"** the creature bellowed, prompting a wary step back from all onlookers. **"Hail, Successor to the Beryl Throne, Custodian of the Late Queen's Will! Twice Hail, Devourer of the Black Goddess Metal'la, Inheritor of her Power! Thrice Hailed, my Eternal Liege-Lord and Master, Ranma, First and Foremost of the Five Kings! May he eternally reign over the Kingdom of Darkness!"**

"You do this _every time_, can I take you _nowhere_ Galena?" Ranma grumbled, rubbing irritatedly at his temple.

**"I have offended my lord."** The female creature said, mournfully. **"I must immediately disembowel myself, to cleanse the shame."**

"That won't be neccessary. I still have more use for you alive." Ranma said dryly. "As you've no doubt noticed, I've been magically summoned for some reason."

**"Indeed. Am I then to slaughter these wastrels for their impudence?" **The shebeast wondered, far too interested in the idea for the mage student's peace of mind.

"My, that seems like a rather undiplomatic course of action." Ranma said. "I think not. Simply act according to the protocol for this situation, and have someone let Kasumi know that I'm requesting that she fill in for me again, until further notice.... incidentally, have you fed recently?"

**"Not for three moonrises, my liege."**

"Ah. In that case, enjoy. It has long since been my duty to assist in that regard, after all."

Without a further word, Ranma flared with blue fires, which condensed and streamed across his body to gather in one uplifted hand, forming into an orb that he tossed gently to his minion. She caught it and made a great show of delightedly ingesting the offered energy, moaning almost sensually as she devoured it. Many of the students shuffled awkwardly, flushing at the display. When finished, she left with a clearly happy spring in her step.

"Now that that is taken care of... let us return to business." Ranma said calmly, as though a youma hadn't just apparently reached the height of passion over a meal. "You mentioned a reason I had been summoned, I believe?"

"Er... yes.... you see, your Majesty, ah... familiar, that is... the summoning..." The proctor stammered, generally tongue tied and utterly failing to make any sort of coherent sense. Not unexpected, as the balding man was wearing the biggest blush of them all. Louise stepped up to the plate instead.

"I've summoned you to serve as my magical familiar." She said seriously, boldly, yet also almost apologetically and trembling lightly at the sheer audacity of the statement.

"I see." Ranma said slowly. "I take it then that this is not the usual result of such spells. Hm. Am I incorrect in assuming that by 'Familiar', you are referring to the practice of a magic-user taking an animal companion of some sort to spend his or her life with?"

"... That's essentially it, yes." Louise admitted.

"Hm... curious. Where I come from, the practice is not at all common." Ranma said, choosing to leave out the details of magic _itself_ not being particularly common. "In any case, if that is all, then I suppose this is not the worst possibility. Must you reach the natural end of your life before the Familar is released, I wonder?"

"..... Yes." Louise lied whole-heartedly. Ranma seemed to recognize it as such, but brushed it off, as he hadn't meant to speak the question anyway.

"No matter. A century or two of service is of little importance, and could be considered a remembrance of my own humbler beginnings. Very well. My dear young lady... I'm sure that you will soon realize that today is the most fortunate day of your entire life. Or the least."

Louise wasn't entirely sure which she would prefer.

xxx

A.N. TAKE TWO

Anyway, decided to try another Ranma on for size, after reading through to chapter thirtyish. Can definitely see him conquering a foothold here as a 'just in case' fall back sort of thing.

Also, this is set after Beryl goes down, and you've probably noted the serious potential spoilers. Eh, maybe-spoilers. Still haven't decided how that's going to go down, though I'm assuming its the most likely one, unless I think of something better. Then again, I might just troll you all and end Lord Ranma with Metallia devouring the world, as a Bad Ending.

Well, I think that would be funny, anyway. Though I probably won't.


	24. Zero's Most Unfortunate Misfortune

Zero's Most Unfortunate Misfortune

xxx

"Peasant?" Louise said softly, stunned for a moment herself, but hearing the rapidly increasing whispers and recognizing the need to do something. "This... this doesn't count. This can't count! I have to try again."

"Unfortunately, while the results are most.... unusual...." The proctor began, before being immediately interrupted by the lady in the pentagram.

"WHOA, whoa, whoa, hold up, everybody shut up and don't do anything for a moment. I've got a... it's a thing, I do, ritual sort of thing, that I do whenever something like this happens. If you'll just give me a second..."

The woman fished a pair of dice out of her pocket. At a glance, it was clear that these were not normal dice, unless the funny characters in place of numbers actually _were_ numbers.

"You're going to play with _dice_." Louise deadpanned.

"I'm not playing... this is Important." Ranma replied, shaking her hand. "I need to do this to figure out my Alignment, for while I'm here. If I don't know that, how am I supposed to figure out how to respond to things and get into character? Listen, this isn't the first time I've been through this, dearie."

"What are you-!?"

"If you and the woman in my head would kindly _shut up for three seconds and let me finish_!" Ranma barked, letting the dice fly and watching intently to see how they fell.

One landed on an incomprehensible squiggle, the other on what _might_ have been a wheel, or an arrow pointing eight different directions, or both.

"Oh, hey. Chaotic Neutral. Been a while." Ranma said blandly.

"If you would just-!"

"Hey look! A distraction!" Ranma yelled, pointing wildly.

Even as she cursed herself for the automatic response and started to turn her head back, Louise somehow knew that it was already too late for something.

"Gardevoir.. Mind Rape, now!"

xxx

The following decade or so was known as the reign of Mad Horse the Insane, as an army of mind controlled mages swept over the country, looting and pillaging indiscriminately, and capturing anyone they could to be indoctrinated into their ranks. That their forces were composed of such notables as old men wholeheartedly secure in the belief that they were actually preteen girls, whose familiars were their 'series mascots', and people who seemed incapable of coming to the realization that they were making animal noises, speaking backwards, or merely pouring forth nonsensical gibberish whenever they tried to talk, simply made the crushing wave of conquest.

This reign came to an unusual and abrupt end when, midway through the sacking of the cities occupied by the solemnly united forces of everyone who was still sane, Mad Horse the Insane seemed to completely forget there was a war, and wandered off the battlefield in search of 'toaster strudels'. Shortly after her disappearance, her troops fell further into the anarchy they were known for and ceased to display any form of competence, allowing the united world forces to win the day. Mad Horse the Insane was never heard from again, and most of her unfortunate minions slowly regained their senses over the next several months, prompting the conclusion that she had either died somehow, or had left to plague some other unfortunate world.

Either way, the common consent was 'Good Riddance'.

xxx

A.N. You know, I really wasn't gonna, but then I thought about it again, and then someone suggested it in a review, so I went 'Eh, why not'. You may have noticed that Wandering Ranma has gone a little loopy over the... (picks a number).... thousands of years in between the current arc of that story and would be an AU of my AU character, I guess, where neither of them ever reach home, or even a parallel world where one of them could go 'screw it, close enough' and refuse to leave. Also, they're apparantly immortal now. Or something.

Just so you know, not planning on writing another of these anytime soon, making this the final of this snippet-trilogy-thing.


	25. Maid Snippet

Not Chapter Two

xxx

"Hahaha..." Nabiki's laughter was just as she remembered it, calculated and chillingly cruel, so as to put others off guard. That she was hearing it as she passed through the manse's courtyard, and that she'd been _so sure_ that there were no logical reasons for her to come looking here, only made it all the worse.

Ranma schooled her face into a carefully practiced expression of confusion as she turned around towards the gate, only to be replaced by honest surprise.

"It took a while, and cost a lot... yes, I'll admit, you gave me the slip for a little while, even. But at last, I've finally tracked you down, and I can collect that delicious bounty. Are you ready to stop running, Ranma Saotome?"

Nabiki's hand flung outwards in imperious demand... pointing directly at a less-than-impressed Hong Meilin, the mansion gatekeeper. Ranma clenched her teeth together hard enough to shatter stone, only just barely managing to keep back the howl of laughter that would have betrayed her identity.

"Who _are_ you?" Meilin asked dubiously, eying Nabiki and her gathered troupe of toughs.

"Ha! Trying to play dumb, Ranma? I'm insulted that you think me so stupid! You barely bothered to disguise yourself at all... did you really think that just a new outfit and hairstyle would be enough to throw me off the scent?"

"Hmph. It's true." Ryoga declared. "After having so many of your cursed disguises used against me, I've learned to see through them, to the honorless cur sealed within. There's no fooling my eyes, Saotome!"

"It's not that I don't sympathize with your plight, Ranma..." Mousse said, drawing a pair of chinese blades out of his sleeves. "... but with you permamently out of the way, Shampoo will be mine! Accept your fate!"

"I'm just in this for the money. Sucks to be you." Taro declared.

"OHOHOHOHO! I shall banish the redheaded harridan!"

At this point, Ranma was the one feeling vaguely insulted, at such clear and overwhelming low expectations. Meilin seemed to feel similarly, as with a gigantic blast of multicolored light, the fighters were all catapulted violently away in multiple directions.

"A... ahehe..." Nabiki chuckled weakly, now much less certain of her position, as Meilin was cracking her knuckles. "You've... gotten stronger, Ranma."

"Um, excuse me..." Ranma butted in, partially out of a desire to see how well her disguise would stand up to scrutiny, and partially out of the habit of trying to keep noncombatants from getting hurt. "I'm fairly sure you must be mistaken, miss. I don't think it's possible that Sempai is this 'Ranma' woman you're looking for..."

"No, I'm sure it's her. The odds are against there being another well endowed, redheaded martial artist in this area." Nabiki denied, sparing the real Ranma no more than a cursory glance. Success!

"Are, are you really sure about that?" Ranma wondered aloud. "It's just... Meilin-sempai has been the gatekeeper of the Scarlet mansion for as long as I can remember, so..."

"Are you calling me old...?" Meilin asked, dangerously.

"Ah! No, sempai, I didn't mean it like that... I was just trying to explain to the visitor that she was mistaken. The only time the two of you could have met would be the last time you had a vacation, which was... um..."

"Six months, two weeks, and three days ago. And I didn't actually go anywhere... I just spent the whole time in bed."

"Yes! You see, miss visi... tor?"

Nabiki had walked up and was staring intently at Meilin's face, frowning.

"Your eyes are... green. Tch. Bad lead again, that idiot will pay through the _nose_ for this mistake. No _idea_ how long it will take to gather those morons back together again..."

Nabiki left, grumbling softly to herself, and Ranma huffed softly.

"That was so rude of her. She didn't even _pretend_ to be sorry for her mistaken accusation!"

"As long as she's gone, and I can get back to my nap, I don't care." Meilin decided. "Also... isn't there something that you should be doing, right about now?"

"Hm? Oh! That's right! I'm supposed to be fetching the Little Sister's tea! Sorry, sempai, but I have to go!"

Meilin chuckled under her breath as she leaned back into the wall by the gate, allowing her eyes to drift closed once more as Ranma dashed off to fulfil her assigned duties.

xxx

A.N. ahaha... this is just a potential scene, not anything near a full chapter. Just a little thought about what the inevitable tracking-down attempt would be like, or something. Might not happen exactly like this, if/when I do write that far.


	26. The Pact of Kyon

She was still smiling.

His brain latched onto that one facet, desperate to re-work the clear threat to his life into a twisted joke, not funny, but not dangerous either. His brain, as proven when a desperate lunge backwards only brought him just far enough that the knife in her hands slashed through his shirt to carve a delicate line through his chest.

And she was still smiling.

_For just a brief moment, the world disappeared, replaced by an expanse of off-white, extending as far as he could see. Before him stood a woman, wearing a black suit of what could only be leather, red hair drawn into a braid._

_She looked up at him, and the surroundings... for lack of a better word, flickered, as though he was watching a movie and someone had spliced in a few frames here and there. It was different, for those brief moments... the world became a grimy dark grey, flecked with spatters of red, and the woman became a barely-humanoid figure of black fire, piercing yellow orbs shining out in place of eyes. Then, everything returned._

_**"Hey, kid."**__ she said, genially, as though she were discussing the weather. __**"You're gonna die."**_

Kyon swore mentally as reality reasserted itself, for the most part. He was back in an empty classroom, where a smiling madwoman with a knife was in front of him. And now, his muscles had become sluggish, slow and weak, like he was trying to move through semi-congealed marshmallow gunk. Fortunately, Ryouko seemed bound by the same limitations, although she didn't seem to realize it.

_**"You're going to die, boya."**_ the woman's voice echoed again, seeming to drip with honey. _**"Do you want to live? If nothing is done, then your life ends here. I can help. I can save you. I want to save you. But it isn't easy. I can't move from here on my own volition. I can't save you, if I can't come to you. I cannot come unless you call me. And, much like everything else, there are always consequenses to be had. But you will live. That is the contract. I will protect your life. You will not die. Simply reach out to me..."**_

Kyon gasped as time began working its way back to full speed, Ryouko lunging forward faster and faster... too fast, he realized dully, there was no possible way that he could evade when he could still barely move...

In desperation, and seeing no other option, he put his trust in the mysterious voice, and managed to whisper a single word.

"Help..."

There was no flash. There was no surge of darkness, or any flamboyant pyrokinetics. There was simply one moment, where the knife had nearly reached him, and the next, where it had frozen in place, the tip just barely touching the patch of skin directly over his heart. The mystery woman's hand was clamped down firmly around Ryouko's wrist, despite that she hadn't been present before, and there was no clue how she'd arrived.

For the first time since this debacle had begun, Asakura Ryouko frowned.

"You aren't supposed to be here..." She began, confused, and confused about being confused. "I had calculated possiblity of intrusion, however..."

"That isn't anything to do with me." The redhead replied. "Usually, I'd give our names, miss knife-girl, but somehow I don't think you care."

"You would be correct." Ryouko replied, and with that a dozen jagged spears of metal materialized to surround her, and stabbed sharply inwards.

Against all expectations, she didn't fall. She didn't even bleed. She did, however, let loose a low, vaguely impressed whistle.

"Iiiinter~esting." She mused aloud, an almost singing note in her voice as her body went... fluid, almost, and the crude spears flowed slowly through her body, to clatter gently against the floor. "What was that, I wonder? A summoning? Alchemic reconstitution of particles in the air? No... actual low-scale reality manipulation? _Fascinating!_ Of course, it makes my job a little more difficult. The pact is to keep boya here alive..."

She moved, and Kyon realized with significant alarm that when she should have bumped into him, she didn't, but instead flowed around and over him, engulfing him within herself.

"And there's only one place I know he'll be safe. Don't worry, boya... we can't eat _you_." She said, as though there was nothing out of the ordinary about what she was doing, and she was purposely ignoring his alarm at the situation. "I'll be spitting you back out soon's this one's not an issue any more."

And, for Kyon at least, everything suddenly went black and silent.

The redheaded woman rolled her neck, vertebrae popping around very deliberately, and then, only then, she released the hand with the knife clutched in it.

"Where were we... hm? Better go back to the beginning, maybe? In that case, an introduction would be in order. What we are... why, that would be a tale that could span _days_ in the telling. But, to simplify matters, I'll just say that once, I was human, and once she was mostly so, and now, neither of us are. You may call me Saotome Ranma. Ayanami Rei, I am afraid that I very much doubt you will meet. Your name... that is unimportant. Irrelevant."

Ranma's smile twisted and distorted slightly.

"And now... we come to business. The pact that allows me to enter this place requires that I defend the boya's life from all threats. You, have made yourself such a threat."

Ryouko laughed.

"This _is_ interesting." She declared. "And to think... such an interesting thing happened simply because I wanted to provoke some reaction from her. I suppose I've already failed."

"Yes. Once, I would have simply driven you off and left you to lick your wounds, stew in that failure." Ranma admitted. "However, I cannot afford such leniency now, when this world could prove to be the key, and boya's death launches me back out of it. Too long, I've had to search. A threat like yourself must be destroyed."

Ranma surged into motion with that declaration, impaling an overconfident Ryouko with her hand. She grinned, then paused and frowned as she looked down, to see inky blackness congealing out of nothing and seeping through Ranma's hand and into... She stumbled back, clutching at the spot of black where there should have been a gaping wound.

"What... what is this... what are you doing to... I don't..."

"Your Heart." Ranma said, displaying not the fleshy organ but a glowing pink mote, captured in one of her hands, imprisoned by black flames.

"Heart..." Ryouko whispered in a daze. "But..."

"All things. Human. Animal. Everything that bears life, and many things that do not, have a Heart. With a few exceptions... the Heart is very susceptible to corruption."

Black fire consumed the mote of light, and as Ranma opened her hand once more, it was as though it had never been.

"So! It's done. Now... left alone, you will become something much like myself. Given time, and enough willpower, you may even eventually force your body to return to a near undetectable form, identical to what you once were. However, I cannot allow this. You see, until you manage the feat, you will rampage as a mindless Heartless, devouring and destroying every Heart you cross paths with. They will become like us as well, and from there a catastrophic wave of darkness will spread to engulf this entire world, devouring it. I will not let this happen, rest assured. For the moment, you are in transition, helpless."

Ranma smiled, a wide grin with too many teeth for anything's comfort.

"And unlike boya... _you_, I can eat."

She surged forward like a tidal wave.

xxx

A.N.

Juuuust throwing a bunny out there. Thought about Wandering Ranma(and Rei) ending up in a couple of different places, but haven't gotten a new chapter ready to tack omake at the end of, so yeah. Honestly, bunny could have spun around entirely differently, with Haruhi doing the 'ia ftagn' thing, with candles and chalk circles and whatnot. For lulz. Because I can seriously see Haruhi trying to summon a demon 'just because'.

Aside from that, you'll be getting no explanation from me, eh?


	27. Sailor Mercury

_Flash of crimson, claws ripping through the air, pencils launched with sufficient force and velocity to imbed in the walls behind her as the roaring Youma charges again... too fast! Evade, evade... hit. Pain, as the claws rake deep through the uniform, scratching ribs, she can't help but imagine the result without magical protection, No. She had to focus, the here and now. Teeth grit as she muscled through the pain, stepping as lightly as she could as she called up another bank of concealing fog and slowly retreated, knowing that it would follow her anyway, as she was leaving spots of red behind to mark her trail as she went. That was fine. That was the plan. She kept going until she reached the spot, and then she waited in the enshrouding mist. The Youma roared as it barreled down the road after her, hesitating only a moment as it saw a shadowy figure. The right size, the right height... it didn't stop to think, just lunged forward, claws first, and shredded. And then it screamed, as it found its arm buried to the elbow in one of her special decoys, carefully hammered together out of junk metal and rigged with enough electric current that the creature was vibrating now, eyes rolling as it spasmed, tiny bolts of lightning crawling across its skin as it slowly melted into no more than mere dust. She sighed in relief, and tapped a few keys on the computer, sending a signal to shut off the power supply of the Youma-killing dummy that had saved her bacon so many times before..._

_Nearby, a child screamed, and she swore violently. Pairs. She had forgotten, sometimes they worked in pairs. Her work wasn't done yet, tonight..._

Ami Mizuno's eyes snapped open, her scars throbbing with remembered pain that the dream had called up. There was a black cat sitting in her window.

"Sailor Mercury... I have sensed a Youma."

Ami nodded and followed Luna's unspoken instruction, transforming and relishing in the cool sense of water flowing over herself. There was no pain, yet. In this state, unlike when she shed the uniform, injuries collected from previous battles held no bearing upon her. The aches and throbs she had so rapidly and painfully accumulated were gone for a time, now, awaiting the moment they could return... and greet new friends. She suspected that the only injury that may hold between one transformation and the next would have to be... severe. Very severe.

She hoped it would never reach that point. But, she reflected, as she leapt out the window and to the hunt, while the uniform of Mercury displayed only the clearest and most flawless of skin... it was not for the sake of fashin, that Ami Mizuno had taken up the habit of long sleeves and baggy, concealing pants.

Ami had acquired many scars, in her brief time as Mercury. She had learned to hide them well. But it was, she supposed, only a matter of time and fortune before her judgement erred, or a plan failed more spectacularly than normal, and something would happen that could not be disguised.

She did not regret.

"Situation?" She asked, crisply and calmly, awaiting further details.

"There is a nearby shrine. Something has been lurking nearby and abducting visitors..." Luna explained, as the hunt began in earnest.

xxx

A.N.

Jusst a little snippet. So, explanation time. I was thinking one day, 'why aren't there more stories where it's NOT Usagi, but someone else who finds and rescues Luna'? I mean, it's not like I've _looked_, or anything, but the only thing I can recall along those lines is a sort of groundhogs-day-repeat type thing where she uses the deus ex crystal to rewind time... again.. or something... look, details are unimportant. Anyway, I thought about it, and realized that it was because _not much would change_. Same story, different names basically, only instead the monsters of the week would be killed off with blasts of fire or lightning or... love... plasma... stuff? Instead of whatever it is that Moon does. Just replace one offensive technique for another, basically.

But then it hit me. What if... someone _without_ any attack magic at all? When Mercury comes into play, all she has to her name is a single support type, that fog thing. That's it. And it is a _long_ time before she gets anything she can hit stuff with. Her primary role is basically to blanket the area with a smokescreen, and/or yell critical tactical advice to someone who can do something about it.

Now, take her out of that role. Assume she is the _only_ Senshi. She has to her name that fog thing, the Mercury Computer scanning device, and _nothing_ else. Further, let's assume that she has some discretion over the fog thing, that she can make it cover a really wide area, but not conceal much, or make it so the baddies can't see much at all, but it only covers a really small area, like a single small room. This is to slightly alleviate the fact that she's still screwed over, because her magic improves at the same rate it did canonically(for the show anyway, I know NOTHING about the manga), meaning it's a _long_ time before she can hit anything with it. No screwy bullshit like magically intuiting a way to create ice daggers and _somehow_ knowing how to use them properly despite previously being a timid and meek braniac beforehand, or suddenly being able to call down bullshit like creating a hailstorm to beat Youma to death with blocks of ice. None of that. Mercury is intended to be support, canonically, and that's the way it stays.

_Except_ that she showed up first. So she's all alone, with nobody _to_ support. And she _still_ has to kill Youma. So what happens then? I'll tell you what. AWESOME. Pure, undiluted Awesome happens. And horribly greivous, mangling wounds that will leave physical and emotional scars that will pretty much completely wreck the poor girl's self-image and social life for forever, I guess. BUT MAINLY AWESOME. I want to read a story like this. I guess, eventually, I'll just have to give up and write one myself so that I can.

It's kind of like playing an RPG with a single healer, instead of a full and balanced party. Holy flaming monkey shit hard, but if you can pull it off? Just wow. Like that, only Sailor Mercury. You get it?

If anyone _does_ write something like this, be sure to send me a link, 'kay? Oh, and read the Dungeon Keeper Ami thread on the Anime Addventure. It is win.


	28. Bending

"If it can be done, and it's done with chi, then sooner or later, I can do it." Ranma affirmed confidently, arms crossed over his chest.

"_Really_ now?"

xxx

Prince Zuko had adapted to his exile. Not to say that he _liked_ it, but things had settled into a sort of routine. Spend a long, boring time on the sea, moving from one place to another, chase ghost stories in the new place in the hopes of one of them leading to the Avatar, who _couldn't_ really be dead, and then spend a long, boring time on the sea while moving to the next place.

The sea journeys would occasionally be interspersed with points of interest. A bypassing merchant ship, or pirates, or heavy storms. Not often, but they happened. Not usually enough to break through the dull monotony, of course.

And as the prince mused on that, there was a loud and heavy splash in the water, some distance off the port side, which sent sea foam surging up into the air in its wake, twenty, perhaps thirty feet. He immediately took up a spyglass.

There was a girl. Nobody he was familiar with, though the red shirt suggested that she was of Fire. He sets that aside for the confusion of wondering where she had come from, and the pity of knowing she was going to die. The waters of this area held an unnatural chill, and were positively swarming with all manner of hungry sea creatures. Even if she wasn't attacked by them, she had only a matter of minutes before her body was too cold to properly function and she drowned. Even if he immediately gave orders to stop the ship, put down anchor, and start manning the smaller rescue and escape vessels, the girl was most likely going to be dead before they even touched down in the water.

She seemed to know that too, as she had begun swimming quickly towards the ship. Zuko closed the spyglass, and closed his eyes in a moment of private mourning for the unusual loss of life. The metal sides of the ship were tall and slick. There was nothing to be done.

Less than two minutes later, he was forced to turn around at the sound of a soggy, wet 'thump', and was greeted with the sight of a bedraggled pile of cold, wet girl. He blinked in amazement, then stalked past her to look down the side of the ship to see if there was a hanging chain or line that he had forgotten about. Nothing. Nothing except a rising trail of bumps, indentations into the metal... _fingerholds_. Like the side of the ship was made of soft wood instead of thick, fine steel, and she had simply forced her fingers in...

He cast a new, appraising glance to the girl at his feet.

xxx

He wasn't quite sure how they'd ended up fighting. When he'd begun to discuss _why_ he should allow her to remain on his ship, he'd expected negotiations of some sort to ensue. He'd considered the possibility of begging, or impassioned pleas.

Instead, what he got was a demand for a one on one duel, for the right to remain.

Very well. It wasn't like he was unfamiliar with Agni Kai.

She was good though. Very good. Zuko was reluctant to admit it, but the only reason he hadn't long since lost was that she had become fascinated with his firebending, as though she'd never seen someone do it before, and had toned down her own efforts significantly to extend the fight, probably so she could study it. Every so often, she would make a vague attempt at duplicating his efforts, which always left him snorting. It wasn't like she could pull it off, no matter how good a fighter she was. She wasn't a-

His next pass was answered by a returning gout of flame.

"You're a firebender!" He accused, jumping back to put some distance between them.

"A what now?" She answered, seeming honestly perplexed at the term, even as the fire flickered to life around her, demonstrating an almost _impossible_ level of ability.

There were two options. Either she had been a firebender all along, and had been playing him for a fool the whole time, which wasn't impossible, or she had _really_ somehow never heard of or seen firebending before, and was simply an unnatural prodigy, to intuit enough in a _single_ battle to match what had taken him _years_ of effort. He wasn't sure which was worse.

"Geeze... don't get your panties in a bunch just because I figured out your little chi-fire. Using it against _me_, you almost had to have seen it coming. If it can be done, and it's done with chi, then _I can do it_. So! Got anything else interesting for me to learn, buddy? Because if not... it's time for me to finish up." She said with a mocking leer.

He woke up hours later, and was filled in on meantime news by Iroh. A stunning amount of meantime news. Shortly after his loss, the girl's _literally_ demonic... partner? Wife? Had shown up with a small humanish creature (perhaps a pet?) and made herself comfortable on board. Then the girl had revealed that she could very easily be a boy if the situation was correct, and they had retreated to a random officer's cabin, kicking him out, and begun making any number of sounds that the crew had desperately ignored. By this point, they had apparently concluded that the newcomers were spirits given flesh, what with appearing out of nowhere and their penchant for the unnatural, and were going out of their way to ignore them.

Whatever. Zuko needed to plan.

xxx

A.N.

Snippet again. This isn't going to happen in the real story, just an thought of 'what happens if Ranma-in-Gensokyo gets a little too arrogant about something and Yukari decides to call him on it', and 'Hey, all that bending stuff from this show is done with chi. I can work with this'.

So yeah. If I did write this, it would be wildly AU. For one thing, once Aang surrendered at the South Pole, he would_ not_ be getting away until he was hand-delivered by Zuko to Ozai. I could make that work, probably.


	29. Full Moon over Eastern Wonderland

Something has gone Very Wrong...

xxx

Kaguya Horaisan blinked as she rose. New experiences were, of course, to be treasured when you would exist until the universe suffered full entropic failure and ceased to be, which was why she would allow the occasional indignity if Tewi's antics were properly amusing.

This, however. This was no mere jest. She could tell without having to extend her senses overmuch that not only was she no longer within the halls of Eientei, but she was outside the Hakurei Border itself. No simple feat, as she had lain down to sleep within both.

Her mind flicked thoughtfully through potential suspects as she rose and, judging correctly from the size of the small bedroom that nobody would be coming to attend to her, dressed herself appropriately, her Impossible Requests lifting gently off the drawers nearby to float around her.

Eirin, Reisen, and Tewi were immediately struck off the potential list, as with the many other youkai rabbits of Eientei. After a further moment, she reluctantly removed Moukou's name as well, concluding that she had no hand in it. The other immortal preferred more... _visceral_ games, and had she made her way undetected into the very heart of Kaguya's abode, she certainly would not have done anything but immediately struck out at her in her moment of slumbering weakness. No, leaving her alone and confused in a place she had never seen, while an intriguing psychological tactic, was not something that she would have thought up on her own.

That left the two most likely suspects as the collective members of the Moriya Shrine, who had demonstrated a habit of compulsive meddling in others affairs, and Yukari, who admittedly had regularly demonstrated similar habits. However, which of them were to blame was proving to be a troublesome question. Certainly, Yukari could have easily plucked her out of her home and deposited her elsewhere with a Gap, but then the Shrine had also demonstrated the ability to traverse the border unaided simply by arriving in Gensokyo. It was, she decided, a question she would have to ponder another time, as there was simply too little evidence to base a firm conclusion and accusation upon, yet.

Finding herself suitably garbed and armed to meet the day, she left the room and descended the stairs to the ground floor, intent on speaking with the people whose home she had apparently intruded upon in her slumber. The woman she saw seemed surprised to see her.

"Ah? Kaguya, sweetie, you're already up? Usually you like to sleep in as late as possible, and then have to run to make it to school on time. Did you decide you wanted more time to eat breakfast, honey? Oh, what _are_ you wearing? You'll have to change into your uniform soon, dear."

Kaguya hesitated. This... this boded ill. The woman was addressing her as though she were her own daughter. Naturally, and without thought. Not a good thing at all. Was Yukari capable of tampering with the minds of others? Were any of that shrine? She was forced to admit that she didn't know.

xxx

The day had been one long string of confusion for Kaguya. An awkward meal with 'parents' and a 'little brother' who she had never before seen in her life had been interspersed with curious comments about her wardrobe. But none, she noted, about the Requests floating about her person. It was as though they did not see, or were not capable of seeing, the items of power.

Upon finishing the meal, she was instructed to change into what she understood was official attire for communal tutoring, and for the moment seeing no other recourse but to play along with whatever bizarre game was currently being enacted, she did so. She did regret it, however. The... uniform, such as it was, was quite similar to Reisen's own chosen attire, a short, thin skirt and a blouse with hardly any sleeve to it. A commoner or soldier would think nothing of the revealing attire. Kaguya, being of noble birth and accustomed to heavy, concealing kimono and robes, felt shamefully exposed in the outfit, as though she had chosen to parade herself about in no more than undergarments.

She concealed her distaste as best she could, helped along by the fact that nobody spared so much as a passing glance to her display, which she was paradoxically both relieved and incensed about, as she made her way to the institute of learning to which she had been directed.

It had been a bizarre sort of day even after then, as the classes seemed to operate on a specific social order and structure of which she was _supposed_, from their perspective at least, to be perfectly well aware, and she was uncertain for some time where she was meant to stand. She was not well pleased as the tutoring progressed, and the character of the person she was known as in this place was revealed through social interaction and testing of the pupil's knowledge.

Kaguya Horaisan was not at all pleased, for it seemed that _Tsukino_ Kaguya was well known to be an uprightly cheerful and friendly, but completely empty-headed girl.

It was not so much to the first that she objected, having been reliably informed that her own personality was quite pleasant, but the second simply would not stand. It had been over a thousand years since she had been tutored in any formal way, of course, but the maths and sciences that governed the world were much the same as those she recalled being taught, and the indescribable expression on the tutor's face as she marked those papers was something akin to driving daggers of flame deep into the princess's stomach. She knew this full well, having experience to base the sensation against.

Worse still were those subjects in which she was _not _particularly good... the histories and such that she had seen pass but had little cause to learn much of, and so were, by her standards of expectations, completely abysmal. _The tutor's expression had not been in the slightest different from any of the others._ What that meant was that the poor grade, to her, was equally unbelievable coming from Kaguya as the excellence she could display in other areas, and as such...

She seethed, privately, over that realization for the rest of the day, even as she paused later to sharply chide some delinquents who were tormenting a stray cat.

Removed from her home, placed in a position where she was expected to behave as an airheaded and petulant child by all those who 'knew' her, and subtly punished through social distancing and whispers when she did not live down to this expectation... New, interesting things were all well and good, but she had had quite enough of whatever warped and twisted game was being played.

And now the cat was speaking to her. Which was not in and of itself unusual, as Kaguya had made excellent conversation with a number of cats previously, but never while they wore the form of a beast, and she had recieved no more than a blank stare when she had offered that the cat change forms and make herself more comfortable as they spoke. And really... the cat wasn't a particularly gifted conversationalist. It had pressed a horribly gaudy trinket upon her, insisted that she was some 'Sailor Moon', whatever it may mean by that, and urged her to go out and hunt some manner of monster that it had apparently 'sensed'.

She had gone, but chosen not to partake in the silly activation phrase and posing that the cat had instructed her to perform, electing instead to simply fly. The cat had boggled at this, and seemed to only just notice the artifacts floating about her, something she took note of and filed away. When she arrived, she was spectacularly disappointed as well, as she had been hoping for a rousing battle to alleviate the stress of this new situation. Instead, this Youma creature had disintegrated to _ash_ at the first glancing shot she had launched to get its attention, before she had planned to introduce herself.

It was so...

"Frustrating, isn't it?" A voice called out from above and to the side. She turned to look, seeing a woman dressed in a man's tuxedo and ornamental mask, carrying an umbrella, green hair topped with a plaid top hat. She cut an interesting figure, to say the least.

"We've never met." The woman continued, a grin widening across her face. "But I have heard of you, Kaguya-hime, of Eientei. That alone convinces me... that you are in much the same situation as I."

Green hair and plaid. That struck a chord in Kaguya. She was sure there was something about... ah. Yes, she recalled now.

"You are... that flower youkai. Kazami Yuka." She said, without an ounce of uncertainty in her voice.

"Oh! You know _me_ as well! I'm honored, _pri-n-cess_... and that confirms it. Ah! How wonderful. It has been two months... two long, painful months, nestled deep in the heart of this teeming hive of humanity. For a short time, I had considered despair... trapped and alone in this fresh hell of poisoned air and earth covered in stone... until I realized how truly pointless it was. As pointless as it would be to slaughter this entire morass of wasted flesh, or to try to leave for more comfortable environs."

Her smile grew further, and twisted.

"I have, of course, tasted the fruitlessness of both endeavors. No matter how many I kill, or how far I stray from this place... should I merely lay me down to sleep, I arise afresh, here once more. There is no escape... it is _maddening_."

Kaguya frowned at this new information. In all honesty, she hadn't actually considered yet the two possibilities that Yuka had brought up. Good to know, though, in any case. She would be happy to allow others to make the mistakes for her to learn from.

"But now, the rules of the game are finally coming clear." the youkai continued. "There is no penalty to the killing of these creatures. Neither is there _sport_ or _satisfaction_, with them so unforgivably weak. But now... now, there is another piece. Come, Princess Kaguya! Show them to me, your brilliant danmaku! And in turn, this rage, frustration, and insanity... I shall lay it all bare before you, to lose myself in the joy of the combat I seek, if only for a moment!"

"Oho! I was wondering when you would get around to asking." Kaguya chuckled, as the two floated slowly upwards in the sky. "In truth, I had a similar proposal on my mind myself!"

xxx

In the morning, tabloids were running headlines on the strange, unannounced firework display of the previous night.

xxx

A.N.

Yeeeah, finally got around to writing something more of this than just a simple sentence or two summation. Touhou and Sailor Moon Character Replacement. Ooooh, the concept still makes me tingly. I can _work_ with this.

Given more thought to the cast of characters though, much more than just the brief mention on my profile. Some of these are hardset, and nobody else can really fit the bill. For other roles, there are options.

Sailor Moon- Obviously, this role can only be played by Kaguya-hime. Or, you know, one of the twin sisters ruling the moon, maybe, but that's not important. **Kaguya**.

Tuxedo Mask- He fights by throwing _flowers_. Clearly, there's only one person who fits the bill here, the one and only **Kazami Yuka**. Settle for nothing less.

Mercury- Now, we have options. Smart, technologically apt, lives with a doctor so probably knows something about medicine, and water related. Several character points to consider, so for her replacement it's really a tossup. It could be **Yakogoro Eirin**, pushing the doctor-y angle, or the kappa **Kawashiro Nitori**, focusing on other aspects. Leaning towards Nitori, actually. Alternately, for the luls factor, it could be **Cirno**.

Venus- LOVE. Love, love, love. Who do we know that fits this bill? Love colored Ordinary Witch, **Kirisame Marisa**. Again, though, we have options here. I could easily see **Komeiji Koishi** fitting the bill, too.

Mars- Let's see, fi- **Mokou**. Fujiwara no Mokou. Although, that's not really being fair, and we're pulling lots of people from the late stages of IN, now. Looking further afield, either **Orin **or **Okuu** (Kaenbyou Rin and Reiuiji Utsuho, if I haven't horribly misspelt something) from the Hell of Blazing Fires would make excellent substitutes in their own right. I'm actually leaning towards Mokou or Okuu for this one, though.

Jupiter- **Nagare Iku**. It's gotta be Iku. I really tried to think of somebody else who could fit the bill, but in the end, yeah. Definitely going to come down to Iku.

More long-term...

Saturn- Maaan... this is a toughie. I've got to think of this, find a decent balance between stuff. Right now, theres probably... hm. **Yuyuko**, **Komachi**, **Shikieiki Yamaxanadu**, oooooor... **Hieda no Akyuu**. Don't hold me to these, though.

Uranus- probably one of the Oni, **Ibuki Suika** or **Yuugi**. Or maybe **Tenshi**. One of those.

Neptune- ? There's someone who fits this. Can't say who it is, offhand, but someone'll work. Maybe... **Star Sapphire**? Maybe not.

Pluto- Timestopping hax. This is **Izayoi Sakuya** all over.

Chibi Usa- AHAHAAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAH-No. Just no... tch. Alright, fine. I'll stuff some random Nameless Fairy into the role of the spore.

Anyway, as always, no guarantees of ever actually getting this thing out there.


	30. Second Moon

More introductions are in order

xxx

The Mizuno matriarch was an important woman. She was a highly experienced and equally well paid surgeon, on call most hours of the day, and had forged iron-clad connections to a number of political groups. She had no husband, and though she regretted to admit it even in the darkest recesses of her mind, her only child had been an accident, the product of a mistake of her youth. She did not know who the father was... certainly, she could have found the answer through simple DNA testing, but there had been so many possible partners that alcohol-soused night so long ago. Some of them were pleasant to think of. Others, not so much, and that she had woken up alone suggested ill. She found a certain relief in the uncertainty, to be frank.

And so, busied with other things for most of the day, she had very little contact with her daughter. If she stopped to think about it, her stomach would have twisted at the careless neglect she had offered... but she didn't, as she _was_ busy with other, important things, and simply never found much time. Her maternal caring extended to ensuring there was always food in the house, the occasional visit with school officials when it was neccessary, and... well, that was mostly all. Her daughter had always been a responsible girl, though. She could take care of herself, and all that was ever neccessary in terms of guidance was a hastily-scrawled note in the mornings before she headed in to work.

Except, one day, Mizuno Cirno woke, floated past the note without sparing it even a first glance, raided the pantry, and then flew out the apartment window on icy wings.

xxx

"I don't understand." Luna muttered to herself, pacing the roof of an empty fish warehouse, a habit she had picked up from living as a stray. "No incantation, no transformation... but, Sailor Moon still destroyed the youma. Is there something I'm missing? Have I forgotten..."

Luna paused in the middle of that thought as she considered the amnesiac swiss cheese nature of her mind, and the fact that it wasn't so much that there were holes in her memory as it was there was one enormous hole, and a few fragmented memories scattered about it that she could mostly recall properly.

"Of course I've forgotten something." She grumbled. "I could probably write full books with what I've forgotten. Just my luck that much of it is probably very important. Still... Sailor Moon..."

For the briefest of moments, she thought she could recall something, the briefest flicker of a woman in a white gown, golden hair drawn up into... and then it was gone, like it had never been. She uncomfortably disregarded it.

"I'm not entirely sure what I expected. Still, she wasn't it. And that masked tuxedo person... it was all very unnerving, for some reason."

Luna sighed and plopped down morosely on the edge of the roof, pondering her next question. She had found the Sailor Moon she had been seeking so long, and directed her towards the minions of the Dark Kingdom, and she would obviously have no trouble in dispatching them. There was only one question left, then. What now? As far as she knew, her duty was fulfilled. She was now left to her own devices... so, what did she want, then?

...

Well, at the moment, what Luna wanted was a nice, juicy, raw fish to tear into. Her stomach growled mournfully as she sighed. She'd rather intended to insert herself into Sailor Moon's homestead, but it seemed that her little brother could not abide cats. And that, as she had been told, was that, as Sailor Moon had very calmly left her to fend for herself again...

Luna was interrupted from her train of gloomy thought as a young looking child dressed all in cold blue and white floated by. Her eyes flashed, and she _remembered_. Only a single word, but it was enough. Mercury. Her duty, it seemed, was not yet complete.

"Hello!" She called out immediately, without thought, and the girl seemed to jump in midair, coming to a sudden stop as she glanced around. "Down here, miss!"

The girl's eyes finally locked onto her, and she floated curiously down.

"You're a cat!" She said, surprised interest undisguised.

"Please, I must speak to you." Luna insisted, and the girl fidgeted slightly in place.

"Do we... have to talk now? I was busy looking for frogs."

... In the middle of the city? Luna couldn't help herself, as the conversation began to slowly sidetrack.

"Frogs? What for?"

"For hibernation training, of course!" She explained, in the sort of tone that implied the asker was foolish despite that Luna couldn't possibly have anticipated such a reply."

"Hibernation...?"

"Uh huh! I freeze the frogs, like this-" Her hand darted out, and Luna had to suddenly move to prevent her tail from being caught up in the sudden sheet of ice that formed over a patch of the roof. "-and when they thaw, they shiver and jump around really fast before going back in the water!"

"... Extraordinary." Luna whispered. "An attack that can cause full cryogenic stasis? Yes, I was right... you are the one I must speak to."

"Yeah! I'm really good at it, too. Only one in three frogs _ever_ shatter anymore!"

Luna felt a cold chill roll down her spine at that statement, coupled with the cheery smile and happy tone it had been delivered in. It had very little to do with the cold radiating from the ice beside her.

And yet, she couldn't back down now. She had found Sailor Moon, and now it seemed that Mercury had found her, more or less. Slowly, she opened her mouth and spoke again.

xxx

A.N.

New snippet for Cirno, go go go! Aww, poor Luna. Anyway, yeah, decided on Mercury eventually. Mars will be next, provided I actually make a choice and write it.

Also, I had the thought that this plotline would be a better doujin than a story, for some reason. Pictures as well as words, you know. But that would take time, and I don't have a scanner or tablet thingy, so meh. I guess I could nudge someone else out there into doing all the hard work, though. So. Any takers? ^_^


	31. Mars needs Men II

_Daily Prophet Special Edition:_

_**HOGWARTS STUDENTS KIDNAPPED, RETURN TO FINISH SCHOOLING**_

_Hogwarts school was home, at the beginning of the new semester, to a horrifying first, that of an abduction of a number of students from the Great Hall itself, unhindered by the presence of the entire teaching staff. The event prompted a number of concerned parents to withdraw their children following the incident, to remain at home pending a significant security review of the hallowed halls of Hogwarts castle, or alternatively for their transfer papers to another school of magical learning to be finalized. A grant was made by the Ministry of Magic, funded by a number of outraged family heads, including one very shell-shocked Lucius Malfoy, consisting of one hundred thousand galleons to be used for the purpose of school security. Upon review of the abominable state of the school's wards and security, a motion was put forward to hold Albus Dumbledore fully accountable._

_In response to this, the Headmaster had this to say._

_"Well, this was a rather extraordinary turn of events, was it not? As to the wards, I will admit that I was indeed aware that they had deteriorated somewhat over time, although I was, perhaps, not completely cognizant of the true extent of things. Still, I had begun making arrangements to privately gather money for the purposes of mending the security holes which I had become aware of, and it is simply the most terrible misfortune for something like this to happen before I could do such."_

_When pressed for details on his fundraising and why he had not brought the matter before the Wizengamot to beg assistance, Dumbledore clammed up._

_"I am afraid that I was forced to, ahem, call in a few very long-held favors. For the sake of privacy, I would prefer not to go into further details. As to why I did not come before the Wizengamot... well! It is certainly not seemly for the Chief Warlock himself to take hat in hand and beg for money. Such weakness would have inevitably been capitalized upon, no doubt used to force me to bend upon more important political issues."_

_Sound reasoning... when taken in the context of Albus Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. But in the context of Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, it can only be considered negligence of the worst sort, and begged the question of if, perhaps, the venerable wizard had been spread too thin over his many offices and duties. If so, then it is perhaps for the best that he resigned from his role in the Wizengamot shortly after his interview, passing the torch on to Madame Bones, head of Magical Law Enforcement, and likely the best possible candidate for the duty, following Dumbledore himself, leaving him the freedom to focus more fully on his other duties._

_Within a further fortnight, Hogwarts' security was tighter than it had been in decades, and a bronze monument had been placed to honor all those lost in the kidnapping which brought the issue to light, names of Muggleborns and the purest of Purebloods alike graven side by side in a stunningly solemn display of mourning the loss of those children, seemingly dropped off the face of the earth, unable to be located through any means known to magic. There were few dry eyes at the ceremony unveiling the statue, which was of a fiendish-looking witch on broomstick taking firm hold of the robes of the terrified and struggling Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, possibly the two most well-known names of the incident. Further, the cheers were deafening at the news of the completion of the repair of the castle's security, rendering it once more 'the safest place in all Britain'._

_It was, then, quite the shock when only a handful of days later, almost one month to the day after the incident, that the abductors and stolen children appeared in the same manner of transport as previously, no more troubled by the new, more powerful defences than they would have been by walking through a spiderweb stretched across an open door._

_Within the clamor, it was revealed that they had returned only upon the children's united and repeated insistence of the importance of their magical education, and only after they had all been bound into matrimony. Upon the protest that foreign marriages might not be considered legally binding, we were directed towards our own chambers of records within the Ministry of Magic, where it was confirmed that several days previous, a large quantity of paperwork had been delivered by what was described as 'a very vexed, tired, and irritable snowy owl', and had been duly sorted, processed, and filed by bored clerks, entering all the abducted children into legally binding matrimony by our own laws. These clerks have since been placed under formal review, and may face pay cuts or potential severance of employment in light of this shocking lack of attention to detail._

_Many of the abductors allowed that they would be more than willing to go through whatever ceremonies were considered both 'traditional' and 'appropriate' should their spouses and new in-laws agree that it would be neccessary._

_Cont. inside, with interviews of the abductees_

xxx

Neville Longbottom

_Miss Konpaku had this to say when asked if she felt any measure of guilt over the incident, or if she felt that she was in any way in the wrong._

_"No. It is the nature of things that the strong may do as they will with the weak. You cannot disagree with me upon this, as your own culture proves this point valid. In comparison to the non-magical general populace, your 'muggles', you are as very small gods, and feel no guilt in theft of memories. Is theft of personage so different, when in comparison to you, we are as gods, and you the mortals? In comparison to my mistress, Yuyuko-sama, as well, you are as mere dust on the wind."_

_It was noted that the young mister Longbottom was nodding agreeably throughout his captor's argument, which we immediately questioned._

_"Oh... well, it's not really nice to think about, is it, when you put it that way, I suppose." He said, blushing slightly. "But... you know, it also makes a lot of sense. I mean, we do have entire divisions of the Ministry that are devoted just to wiping Muggle memories, the Obliviators, just in case the muggles happen to be unlucky enough to see something we don't want them to. So, you know, there's only two real options at this point. Either they, being drastically more powerful than us, which I can confirm to be fact, are in the right because we are in the right to remove Muggle memories... or we are both in the wrong, and have been doing the Muggles a grave misservice ever since the invention of memory modification and removal."_

_Noting that we were alloted only a certain amount of time per interview, we moved right along and questioned young Neville regarding the hospitality he was shown by his captor._

_"Well, when we arrived in Gensokyo, Youmu took Nick and I to Hakugoky... Hakgoku... Hakugyoko... to the place where she lives. It was... I don't know how, exactly, to describe the place as a whole, but according to Lady Yuyuko, who is in charge of the place, it's like a very, very exclusive afterlife. Oh yes, I'm sure she was telling the truth, there was no real need to lie about something like that. The sheer volume of ghosts... it was like nothing I'd never seen before. Although, it wasn't any sort of bleak or oppressive place, in spite of all the dead people. Why, the gardens there... I've never seen, before, such expansive and wonderfully beautiful gardens. Youmu's allowed me to help her tend them, you know."_

_Upon mention of the gardens, young Neville's face took on a dreamy, almost euphoric quality suggesting that he will quite enjoy madame Sprout's instruction. We hastily asked our remaining questions, after noting that we were nearly out of time._

_"Oh? I'm not worried. Lady Yuyuko has assured me that she would be more than happy to extend invitations to departed family members, or hold places in reserve until they do, ah, depart. She also, um, offered to personally grant them a peaceful and painless, ah, death, if they wanted, but that's neither here nor there. Oh, Nick? That would be Nearly-Headless-Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. Youmu picked him up as well... he'll be quite disappointed if he discovers that nobody actually realized he was gone. Why him? Oh, that would be because Youmu is half-ghost, of course, otherwise I suppose she would have picked someone fleshier. Ah, out of time. I suppose I should be off, then."_

Hagrid

_It was only after the large man opened his mouth and spoke that his identity was confirmed. Truly, the groundskeeper cuts an entirely different figure indeed when clean shaven, wearing muggle butler's attire carefully fitted to his muscular frame, and with his hair drawn back into an aristocratic braid than he typically would have in his own clumsily stitched together hides and leather overcoat, beard and hair both wild, knotted, and speckled with brambles. Indeed, the man cleans up almost unnaturally well, and one can only presume that miss Patchouli Knowledge, or 'Patchy', as she seems to either prefer or simply insist that Hagrid refer to her by, knew exactly what she was doing when she plucked the man from Hogwarts._

_"Can' complain much about things, I suppose." He stated during the interview. "I mean... would have been happier if I weren' just plucked up out of nowhere, like. Maybe got to know each other for a little longer before goin' right into matrimony, an' all. Still, it's not like I had meself a great lot of options looking that way, being... well, s'not like it's a great secret... being 'alf-giant as I am. And me being picked specifically, out o' everyone there... I mean, purebloods and muggleborns alike an' even Albus Dumbledore hisself. It makes a bloke feel... special, like, you know?"_

_In this regard, Hagrid seems to feel very similarly to many of the rest of the abductees, prompting momentary worries of mass brainwashing, although the fewer number of abductees who are quite clear about their displeasure with the situation were enough to allay that fear._

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy

_"Ah... to be honest, I really kind of like the situation."_

_"You would, Potter." The interview began, signaling a clear difference of opinion between the two husbands of Ms. Kirisame. Although the way they speak with each other is filled with needles and casual jabs, there is an overtone of mutual amusement throughout which cannot quite be conveyed simply quoting verbatim. Clearly, the duo have stricken up something of an unusual friendly alliance due to shared circumstances, which continues even now despite that they have been sorted into seperate houses, indeed, into Gryffindor and Slytherin._

_Curiously, in spite of expectations it was Mr. Malfoy who was sorted to Gryffindor, and Mr. Potter the Slytherin. When questioned upon this matter, both declined to comment, but shared an identical wry smirk, hinting that perhaps this may not simply have been left to chance. What purpose might be held in such an agreement, whether the sorting hat was bargained with, or how they might have gone about bargaining with the artifact are currently unknown._

_This reporter chose to question the dynamics of a three-way marriage. Who, exactly, wears the pants in this relationship?_

_"Marisa." Was the immediate answer from both young men._

_"If you want to know who takes up the wifely house-elf duties, well, that would obviously be Potter." Draco continued immediately._

_"Well, someone had to, didn't they? After all, I'm sure there are any number of useful spells for housework, but neither of us know them, and Marisa was never inclined to bother with them if she did. And really, you're useless at such tasks, and we'd both either starve to death or die of accidental poisoning if Marisa was left to cook. It was only natural that I fill the hole left."_

_"And you filled it eagerly indeed."_

_"Hah! True enough. Really, I'm just conditioned to hate living in a mess, what with my relatives and all. I couldn't stand just leaving her house in the state it was when we arrived. It's not like you two were actually going out of your way to make life more difficult for me either, so once everything was caught up with it was no real trouble. Although, I do dread returning over the holidays, after she's had a chance to let things accumulate."_

_Draco nodded absently, prompting this reporter to push further with this line of questioning._

_"Hm? What role do I play? Well-"_

_"Mainly, Draco here just looks pretty." Harry interjected. "Marisa's going to wait a few years before anything more. Really, we are only eleven you know."_

_"Although I am devilishly attractive."_

_The discussion verged here for a few moments into mild teasing and joviality before coming back on track._

_"As for Kirisame... well, she mainly provides income by offering her talents to the people of Gensokyo. She runs fireworks displays, hunts troublesome beasts and beings..."_

_"Really, anything that she can handle with a really big and flashy explosion." Harry finished. "It's more of a choice than any limitation on her part, though."_

_"Merlin knows I know this. The woman has magical lore the likes of which I've never seen before, and she's well practiced with everything she knows."_

_"It's just that, if at all possible, she prefers to solve problems by blasting them into uniform paste. Or mist. Or atoms."_

_This reporter continued by asking after long-term plans, and both young men seemed contemplative for a moment._

_"Obviously, we'll have to return to Gensokyo on a more permament basis once our seven years are up. Although, I will say that plans are being made for lines of communication and ways of travel between the two hidden worlds, the first stages of which are already begun in some cases."_

_"My situation is a little more complicated than Potter's, as I'm reliably informed that his Muggle relatives couldn't be more pleased to know he is happily married and living elsewhere. Much of my time here will be spent making arrangements and enjoying my remaining time in the company of family and old friends. I cannot, after all, remain the Malfoy Heir and fulfil my duties from the opposite side of the world. My parents are still in their prime, however, so I have no doubt that they will have no particular difficulty in concieving a new heir."_

_"And you are happy with this?" this reporter questioned._

_"Of course not." Draco snapped, the first signs of irritation and resentment for the situation beginning to show. "I've spent my whole life being groomed and preparing to take my place as the Heir, the Malfoy Head after father. Of course I'm not happy that that suddenly got torn away from me. But I find significant advantage in this course of action as well. Like I said, many of the eastern magics are like nothing I have ever seen or heard of before, and I completely intend to learn them to the fullest, after finishing my course of study here. Perhaps a few generations down the line, my new branch of the family can re-marry into the main line, here, and enrich the Malfoy family as a whole with new knowledge and power. No more than six, seven hundred years at the most distant, and I intend to take a part in the wedding, when and if it happens. Eastern magics for extending ones lifespan are... well, I cannot really explain the details, so I shall simply say that they are very good indeed."_

_Fascinatingly, the young man was brimming with confidence as he announced his intended longevity, suggesting that he truly believes this is not outside the realm of possibility. If so, this reporter can only presume that the magics he spoke of replicate something very like the effect of Nicholas Flamel's fabled Philosopher's stone. An advantage, indeed, to any wizard brave enough to cast aside his previous life in the seeking of it. It begins to come clear, now, how Mr. Malfoy was sorted into Gryffindor._

Interviews cont. on page D7-

**Breaking News: Aurors still baffled at mysterious disappearance of Professor Quirrel, Defense Against the Dark Arts Instructor.**

_"It's terribly confusing." Lead Auror N. Tonks had to say. "I mean, everyone _knows_ the job's cursed. Near the end of the year, or a little after, something bad's going to happen to you if you haven't resigned. Sometimes well before the year ends, and nobody can forget the spontaneous incineration of Professor Bogwhistle, shortly before the winter holidays. This is the first time that it's happened before term really began, though."_

_Experts in the field suggest foul play, as..._

xxx

A.N.

Yes. This again. I've been fiddling with it for a while, now. Really, the thing that most restrains me from taking the plunge and just writing it out is that I can't decide whether to write through the entire month in Gensokyo before everyone gets talked into letting them finish school, or just pick it up around when classes begin and loosely follow the normal plot. Eh, I'll figure that out.

A recent plotbunny that hit me, though. Having Harry punch out Buckbeak, in a way that makes reasonable sense as you read it. I've got most of it pictured in my head already, but I either have to write through a dozen, possibly more, chapters in a story where the muse has mostly abandoned me, or just write up that one scene and stuff it in here, to be used later if the story ever actually drags itself that far. Eh, I'll figure that out.


	32. Domestication

"Can't be that hard if Potter's done it." Came a jeer. Harry couldn't identify the talker immediately, and he didn't have time to put a name to the face as the speaker continued. "Bet you aren't dangerous at all, are you, you ugly beast?"

Mentally, Harry cursed his 'saving-people-thing' as he immediately rushed into a flying tackle, starting to move even before the hippogriff had begun to raise up and begin a raking slash with its claws. Intellectually, he knew there was no way he could avoid the blow himself after pushing the other out of the way, but he still couldn't stop himself.

Impact. The other student was hurled enough out of the way to fall clear, and then there was pain, pain, pain as the claws struck home, digging deep into his side. He gasped as he fell to the ground, and someone started screaming as the hippogriff snorted and stalked away, dangerously ruffling its feathers.

"Harry! Yeh all righ', Harry?"

"... I'm fine." He bit off, gritting his teeth as he forced down the pain.

With a grunt, he rose to a kneel and tenderly moved his wand out of his pocket, then used it to slice through his robes and shirt. As the fabric pooled to the ground, he muttered an incantation under his breath and conjured up a long spool of bandages, which he directed to wrap itself tightly around his torso and tie itself off.

"Missed vitals... yeah, my arteries are still good..." He mumbled to himself, self-diagnosing as the wound was wrapped. "Yeah, just a flesh wound. Really, I'm fine Hagrid."

"Now... I think yeh should get to the hospital wing, Harry. Mad'm Pomphrey c'n fix yeh up right as rain." Hagrid babbled, clearly not really hearring Harry's assurances.

"Yes, in a minute. Something to do here first." Harry said, rising slowly to his feet.

He eyed the Hippogriff. Mostly bird. That meant it had to be pretty light, what with the hollow bones and everything, in order to fly, right? Or it was just magic. This was probably a bad idea, either way, but the adrenaline from the brush with death was flowing now, and his thoughts were a little muddled.

"Hey... Hey you!" He barked, stalking angrily forward.

The Hippogriff had about enough time to turn and start to stare curiously at him before he belted it, right between the eyes. The indignant squawk that followed was really more out of surprise than pain, though there was a bit of that too.

He didn't give it any chance to react further, pushing heavily onto the offensive, knowing that it would strike out at him again if he gave it any breathing room. A screech was cut off with a blow to the bottom of the beak, snapping it's head painfully upwards, and an attempt to gain the air was interrupted by Harry grabbing hold of one wing and wrenching it back to the ground.

He was right. For such a large creature, the Hippogriff was unusually light. How much of that was down to magic was up to debate, though.

"Harry! What're yeh doin' to Buckbeak!" Hagrid yelled in a scandalized tone.

"When pets _act up_..." Harry punctuated the words with a blow to the reeling, somewhat dazed Hippogriff's head. "... You have to _punish_ them right away, or they_ won't learn_. Soiling the _carpet_, digging up _flowers_, eating _guests_. That _just won't do_. Sit down, beast... I said _SIT_."

With a slight whuff of noise, Buckbeak's hindquarters gave out, leaving the Hippogriff sitting on the ground in front of Harry, traces of wariness and slight fear in its eyes.

"Good boy. Now, look at me... I said _look at me_!" Harry yelled, grabbing the beak by both hands and manhandling it around when Buckbeak started to fidget and look elsewhere. "Look. At. Me. I'm the boss, Buckbeak. I'm in charge. You're just an animal. By Merlin, you _will_ do what I tell you to do and _like it_, or so help me I'll turn you into a _rug_. You understand me, Buckbeak?" He said, in a soft, dangerous tone that didn't seem to help the beast's anxiety much. "You understand that? I'm in charge. You aren't. As long as that's understood, this'll work out fine. Now _LIE DOWN_."

As he released the hippogriff's head, it let out a soft almost-whinny noise as it dropped fully prone to the ground, seeming to, at the very least, have gotten the general gist of what Harry had said.

"Theres a good boy." Harry said, in a much more amiable mood as he scratched around the animal's crest.

For the next fifteen minutes, Hagrid just stood there, in a sort of gobsmacked, horrified awe at the display.

xxx

A.N.

Just something I quickly bashed out while I should have been reviewing for an upcoming test. May use this brief scene in something or another at some point, may not. I've said this before, but I just wanted to write a scene where Harry punched out Buckbeak. This doesn't quite match up, but eh.


	33. Dragon time

Dragons. The first task was..._ dragons_. Now, more than ever before, Harry was certain that he'd been set up by someone who wanted him out of the picture. Because honestly, _dragons_. Moody had apparently tried to help out, but his advice was less than helpful. Play to his strengths.

What were his strengths? Harry was something of an unmotivated, average-ish student. The only thing that he really excelled in was... Quidditch. Which made Moody's advice all the more absurd, because it seemed like the professor was advising him to try to _outfly a dragon_. Ever since, he'd not been able to shake the thought that maybe, for some incomprehensible reason, it was _Moody_ who wanted him dead this year. Because riding a skinny bit of wood and straw in order to play chicken with a multi-ton scaled behemoth of a winged lizard, with dagger-like claws and teeth and horns, which could _breathe fire_... that didn't sound like a completely suicidal course of action _at all_.

Although, to be honest, it wasn't like he was exactly swimming for options, but either way, he'd be much happier if he was going into this with a backup plan or two. Who knew, if he couldn't find anything like some kind of miracle dragon-repellant charm, then he'd even try Moody's crazy suggestion.

In the meantime, he brushed up on not just his summoning charm, but a little bit of everything he'd been taught so far, just in case any of it proved useful in the task to come, and looked up what he could on dragons in the library.

It proved to be of very little help, as the books held almost no information that he hadn't already known. Dragons- big, scaly, fire, ill-tempered, magic-resistant hide... the only thing that _might_ have come to a surprise to him, if it weren't for almost every muggle story that involved dragons in any way, was that some knights, even without a trace of any magic to call their own, or any more equipment than tempered steel, had proven unusually good at slaying dragons. The tome it was mentioned in very condescendingly brushed it off as 'the luck of fools', reasoning that only a fool of the highest degree would assault a dragon in its own lair, entirely without any sort of assistance.

That night, in a blinding flash of insight, something clicked, and Harry suddenly had a backup plan. He wasn't particularly pleased with it, any more than he was with Moody's, but he was pretty sure that, in the end, he wasn't going to entirely approve of _any_ plan that involved him being on the wrong side of a dragon at any point. For the moment, he'd have to make do.

xxx

The castle was on the opposite side of the dragon. Harry had noted this, but not really comprehended what that meant until entirely too late, as the dragon snapped out at the bit of wood flying past it, almost entirely out of reflex. As about a third of his Firebolt, gifted from Sirius, continued onward a few feet before coming apart in splinters, and the dragon carelessly crunched and swallowed the rest, Harry felt a little bit of himself shrivel up and die.

Even as he realized what this meant, the adrenaline began to flow. It looked like it was down to plan B after all... he spared a moment to wish, dearly, that he'd thought of a plan C.

"AND THE HORNTAIL'S SMASHED APART POTTERS BROOM MID-SUMMON! TERRIBLE LUCK, THAT." Bagman bellowed, voice echoing through the delighted crowds.

Harry ignored him as he darted behind a large stone outcropping to avoid a gout of flame. Thinking fast, he quickly mumbled a cutting charm needing to get out of his heavy, encumbering robes as fast as possible more than he needed them intact. His clothes underneath were light and less likely to catch on something, so for the moment they could stay. If he really needed to, though, he would strip right down to his skivvies, modesty be damned.

He levitated a nearby boulder, and smashed it as hard as he could into the ground. It took a couple of tries, but then the rock split apart into roughly equal parts. Seven of them. A good omen, for this crazy plan? _Merlin_ he hoped so. Mumbling quickly, he drew upon his transfiguration study... fortunately enough for him, turning chunks of rock into metal spears wasn't _that_ dissimilar from turning wooden matches into metal needles. Theoretically, it might even be a little easier, as stone and metal were closer, but to counter that, the increased scope and ratio of the transformation made it much more draining. They wouldn't last forever either, but he only needed them right now. Whether or not they turned back into chunks of rock a few hours down the line was irrelevant.

"FASCINATING BIT OF TRANSFIGURATION FROM YOUNG HARRY DOWN THERE, CAN'T IMAGINE WHAT HE THINKS TO USE THOSE SPEARS FOR. WHAT'S THAT, SIX, SEVEN OF THEM I SUPPOSE?"

Harry _really_ wished that blasted man would _shut up_ and let him focus. His eyes narrowed, and he levitated the spears, floating them closer in to himself as he darted to the next piece of cover. As he ran, he flicked his wand out and moved another rock, throwing this one at the dragon as fast as he could make it go. That turned out to be surprisingly fast, but the dragon was _just _a hair faster, writhing sinuously out of the way, as though it were some gigantic serpent. For a brief moment, the comparison took hold in his mind and he thought to try Parseltongue, before he rejected the idea. If that was going to work, then he should have been hearing _something_ in all the dragon's furious roaring, right? Instead, he levitated another pair of rocks and catapulted them in the general right direction.

For a few moments more, this was how the battle went, as Harry tossed whatever heavy debris caught his eye in between moving from cover to cover, getting a feel for how the dragon instinctively dodged. Then, with the next barrage, he launched the spears. Not at where the dragons was, of course, but where it was about to be.

Oh, how it screamed at the impact, seeming almost more insulted by it than in pain. Most of the spears, four, deflected off its scales, doing little more than chipping them slightly. Two bit a little harder, knocking away a few looser scales, one of which the dragon snapped at and got wedged comically between its teeth, almost like a dragon-sized toothpick. One though... one had struck home in the creatures side, having found a chink in the armor and driven itself in with all the force of a ballista bolt behind it. Harry quickly floated the five remaining spears back to himself as the dragon thrashed wildly.

Or, at the very least, that had been the plan. But with a screech of resounding fury, madness coming into its eyes, the beast rushed directly at him, brushing the spears out of the air like twigs in its charge. It came to the end of its tether and, for a moment, the heavily warded and secured chain held firm. Then, the less heavily warded and secure patch of stone it had been bolted to ripped completely free of the earth, and Harry's life flashed before his eyes as the creature's extremely focused rampage continued towards him unabated. The world seemed to slow down as its cavernous maw widened, now only a handful of feet away.

He saw and opening, and without thinking, driven entirely by the rush of the battle, he leapt. Not out of the way. No, he dropped his wand and leapt directly into the beast's mouth, free hand reaching out and snatching up his prize.

The Horntail's jaw snapped loudly shut, and the entire crowd went silent and still, Bagman right in the middle of a sentence. For a long moment, it was as though time itself had ceased. Then, with an aching, pained wheeze through its nostrils, the dragon's eyes rolled up into its head and it toppled, slowly and limply, to its side. The crowd watched on, but it lay completely still and motionless. Then it's jaw was slowly, painstakingly, forced open from the inside, a gush of blood flowed freely over the ground, and Harry Potter stood and limped valiantly out. As he stepped free, a line of sight to the roof of the dragon's mouth was revealed, and his victory became clear.

Having wrenched loose the spear from where it had caught between the dragon's teeth, Harry had had only a moment before its jaws swung shut. In that moment, he had only braced himself. And the spear. When the dragon had angrily bitten down, the force had pushed the pointy end of the spear upward... directly into its brain. Harry had, in effect, tricked the mighty beast into killing itself.

As Harry collected the golden egg, the crowd finally shook free of their stunned silence and erupted, almost as one, into an uproar of almost riotous howls of delight and applause at the show.

xxx

A.N.

I'm getting more and more attached to this Awesome Harry, I think. Yeah, continued from the hippogriff thing. My word, he certainly has a... _way_ with animals, don't you think? Though, I wouldn't even have thought of the dragon thing if someone hadn't brought it up. Then, of course, the idea wouldn't leave me alone. Kudos.

One thing, though... who actually _didn't_ read 'Moody's' canon suggestion for the tournament and think 'okay, yeah, he's the bad guy'. _Seriously_. That's the most _ridiculous_ plan...


	34. On the Job

**On the Job**

"Mo-Mi-Jiii..." The call came, dulcet and sweet and, to Momiji's trained ear, promised nothing good. Her ears flattened to her head, but all the same she lowered her sword from the training dummy. With a sigh, she set it down and mopped at her brow with a towel she had brought for just that purpose.

"Moooo-Miiiiii-Jiiiiii!" The call came again, and with a grunt of soft disgust she tossed the towel aside and buckled her sword back in place.

"Yes, I'm coming, mistress Aya." She called back.

xxx

"MOMIJI! There you are! Who's a good girl, who comes right when her master calls?"

"Please don't treat me like a dog." Momiji answered in a dull tone, knowing from long experience the futility of it.

"Momiji, my darling, assistant, I have had a WONDERFUL IDEA!" Aya declared, with the sort of cheerful enthusiasm and wide smile which could only mean trouble for Momiji in the very near future. "A brilliant and stunning expose on the innermost secrets of the troublecausers and problem-solvers of Gensokyo, indeed, even a masterpiece of literary brevity and wit, such that the readers will weep with joy to have been even the slightest part of its glory!"

"Oh god." Momiji whimpered softly. "Mistress... may I have a little time before this assignment, to go set my affairs in order? Make sure my last will and testament is up to date?"

"AHAHAHA! Momiji, Momiji, Momiji. I do so love your sense of humor. But let's be serious, now, you've got work to do. I need you to go take sample photographs of the contents of everyone's panty drawers."

Momiji's ears flattened against her skull, and she rubbed anxiously at the bridge of her nose in an attempt to stave off the headache she knew was incoming.

"Don't you usually make a point of taking the photographs you use yourself?" She tried feebly, in an effort to avert the coming disaster.

"Yeah, sure. But, see, I've got appointments to keep with the goddesses of the Moriya shrine. Interviewing them, having lunch,..."

"... Setting up an alibi..." Momiji grumbled.

"Yeah, that too, I suppose." Aya admitted without a trace of guilt or shame. "Now, as is standard procedure, should you be caught behind enemy lines, I will disavow all knowledge of your activities and intent-"

"If I get caught, the very first thing I'm doing is laying the blame for this whole fiasco right where it belongs." Momiji grumbled.

"So don't get caught!" Aya finished, pulling out a camera and scrap of paper with names scribbled on. "You have your orders, soldier! Now, go out there and make me proud!"

Were Momiji a weaker wolf-tengu, she would have begun to whine deep in the back of her throat. As things were, however, she simply grunted in disgust and snatched up the equipment.

As she left the room, she glanced down at the list. This time, she _did_ whine a little, before choking it off into a strangled whimper.

_Yasaka Kanako_

_Moriya Suwako_

_Kochiya Sanae_

_Izayoi Sakuya_

_Remilia Scarlet_

_Konpaku Youmu_

_Saigyouji Yuyuko_

_Horaisan Kaguya_

_Fujiwara no Mokou_

_Alice Margatroid_

_Kirisame Marisa_

_Hakurei Reimu..._

xxx

She started with the Moriya Shrine, because in some ways it could be considered the most dangerous of all the places she would have to visit, being the home of no less than three of her targets. Better to get it out of the way quickly, before word began to spread.

Even better, Aya was occupying the snake-goddess and the green shrinemaiden with idle chatter, so she only really had to keep an eye out for the frog-goddess as she infiltrated the shrine.

It only took a moment to find the shrine-maiden's room, and from there to find her panty drawer. Most of it was prints, nothing really exciting. A few heart-prints, some stripes, a smiley-face print, and a few with patterns of robots. An eclectic assortment, but nothing particularly outrageous. Aya probably wouldn't be happy, but it wasn't like she could take pictures of something that wasn't there. She slid the drawer shut with a sigh, and started back to the door.

There was a click, partway there, and it began to slide open. Panicked, Momiji ducked into the closet and swung the door mostly shut, holding her breath and peering out through the cracks as the door to the room opened and the frog goddess stepped cautiously through. She paused for a moment to glance through the room, and Momiji saw that she was wearing a black napkin over her face and thick sunglasses. She hadn't, however, bothered to remove her distinctive hat. As she watched, Suwako continued into the room, stepping exaggeratedly carefully and quietly as she went, snickering under her breath. She moved out of Momiji's field of vision, and for a moment she could only hear what she was doing. A drawer slid open... then there was a soft rustling for a couple moments, and then the drawer slid sharply shut again, and Suwako rushed back out of the room, giggling and clutching a large bar of chocolate to her chest.

Momiji waited a few seconds, listening carefully to see if the goddess was going to return, then slowly let out the breath she'd been holding. Close. Too close.

In comparison, the invasion of Kanako's privacy went almost completely uneventfully. Aya wouldn't be pleased, though. Rather than anything the reporter would find interesting, the drawer contained only chest-wrappings and old fashioned fundoshi.

Her business there complete, Momiji withdrew to plan the assault on the final bastion of the shrine, Suwako's bedroom. It would be tricky... very tricky. Suwako had retreated to her room to scarf down the candy, and didn't show any signs of leaving again anytime soon. She should have come here first. Still, she waited patiently perched in a nearby tree, which offered a clear line of sight into the room, as her target thoughtlessly goofed around inside. Right now, it was a waiting game. Hours passed, and it was well after Aya left that an opportunity opened, as Suwako slumped almost bonelessly into bed, falling asleep moments after collapsing. Not a great opportunity, no, as the other two occupants had begun walking almost aimlessly through the shrine and would probably be quick to respond if Suwako woke and created a disturbance, but it was likely the best that she was going to get. She floated quickly over to the wall and hovered in place, carefully sliding the window open one painstaking inch at a time, wary of any shrill squeaks that might alert the sleeping goddess.

She didn't realize that she was holding her breath until after she'd fully opened the window, and let it loose with a quiet sigh. She carefully leaned forward and shimmied through the small hole, slowly and carefully, mindful of any noise. She was grateful that she'd thought to leave her sword and shield behind for this stealthy operation, as if there was ever a time that they would have caught on something and made a noisy clatter, this was probably it.

She moved to the drawers, and carefully slid them open, one at a time, hunting for the target. When she found it, she paused.

What.

No, this couldn't be right. No way, after the more... mature-looking members of the household had turned out to wear such bland and uninteresting undergarments, there was no way it was possible that she was looking at this. It just wasn't possible. Clearly, her eyes were decieving her, and she wasn't, in fact, looking at the sort of lacy, almost transparent sort of silky undergarment that could make a victoria's secret model blush slightly. Maybe there was some mistake, and for whatever nonsensical reason, the members of the household kept their underwear in drawers in each other's rooms. Or maybe it was some bizarre illusion, tricking the eyes, and what she photographed would be real?

She tried that. No such luck, as what the photo's showed was exactly what her eyes were telling her was there.

Well.

Huh.

Only one way to be certain that she hadn't just taken leave of her senses, then. She turned slowly and began to creep up on the sleeping goddess, carefully leaning over. Not enough light... there was no way to see what she was looking at. Biting at her lower lip, but unwilling to back down now, Momiji reached out with a trembling hand and slowly, cautiously lifted at the hem of Suwako's skirt.

She had just enough time to, wide-eyed, comprehend and confirm what she was seeing before a small hand slapped hers away and the fabric settled back down. She froze, as the significance of that suddenly clicked in her head, and she slowly looked further up, to where the Goddess, Suwako, was staring down at her, narrow-eyed and frowning, deeply. As their eyes met, she began to form an Iron Ring in one hand.

"THIS ISN'T MY FAUUULT!" Momiji insisted at the top of her lungs, as she beat a hasty retreat through the window, photographs hidden away in a secure place as she dodged blast after blast of angry danmaku and tried to ignore the shrill screams of rage from behind her.

xxx

The rest of her raids went more or less the same, with Momiji picking up valuable pieces of life-wisdom along the way. Like 'If you're thinking about trying to steal panties from a knife-happy maid who can stop time on a whim, DON'T', and other such gems of zen-like insight.

The invasion of the Hakurei shrine had been the most harrowing and painful, she decided. Clearly not proportional to the few well-used sets of plain, unadorned white panties that the red-white had hidden so jealously away. In comparison, Marisa's house had been almost a breeze... the trickiest thing in that regard was actually finding where the witch kept her panties. For the most part, they weren't in drawers at all, instead hiding up on shelves and between seat-cushions, or hanging half-out of _a cooking pot, aaagh, how could Marisa stand this_, and for the most part it was just bloomers, with only a single set of racy, lacy undergarments thrown in for flavor. For the most part, the rest had been in between those two extremes, although closer to the first than the second.

There was only one left, now, on the list she had been given. Fujiwara no Mokou, the other recluse of the bamboo forest. Luckily, it seemed like she was out doing something right now, as her shack was dark, and nobody answered the door when she tentatively knocked. She sighed in relief, thankful for what looked like an easy job after the hell that Aya's request had put her through thus far.

Mokou's door didn't lock, she noted... no, that was wrong. There was a latch on the inside, but the other lock was broken, meaning that she could only keep the door locked while she was inside. Lucky for her, Momiji supposed, making an easy job even easier, as she set to search for the target.

And search. And keep searching. And search some more, as fruitlessly as all the searching previously had proven to be. Finally, having all but completely turned the house upside down and shaken it, Momiji set loose her disgust in a howl of frustration.

"Why can't I find the damn panties!"

"Panties... huh." A dry voice came from the door.

Momiji slowly turned, and could almost feel her tail drooping as she met Mokou's cool stare. The immortal slowly let out a cloud of tobacco-smoke, then plucked her cigarette from her mouth and slowly ground it out into her other hand. Then, heedless of Momiji's fidgeting, she turned around and latched the door securely. With a dull start, she realized that none of the windows were large enough that she could fit through... with Mokou in between her and a locked door, unless she was willing to bring the whole shack down and possibly kill herself from it, she was well and truly trapped.

"My panties, was it? Let me tell you a little secret.." Mokou said, starting to walk slowly towards Momiji, who took an equal step backwards for every one of hers forward.

It couldn't last forever though, and she quickly ran into a wall, and scrabbled at it with her fingers as Mokou continued her advance. She stopped well within Momiji's personal space and leaned slightly forward, lips almost brushing against the wolf-tengu's ears.

"My little secret..." She almost purred. "... I don't wear any."

Momiji only had time to let loose a startled yelp as Mokou's hands blurred into action.

xxx

Epilogue~

Hours later, a very haggard, disheveled, and drained looking Momiji stumbled awkwardly into Aya's office, clutching a file almost desperately.

"I've got..." she croaked, then coughed and continued in a more normal voice. "I've got those photos you wanted, mistress Aya." she said, setting the file down with all the tenderness of a holy relic, as though it were the finest crystal and might shatter at the slightest touch.

Aya blinked and glanced down.

"What's this... panties?" She asked aloud, flipping through the photos. "Oh, right! I did ask you to do that, didn't I! Not important." She finished, sweeping the entire file aside and to the floor in a grand, dramatic gesture. "Momiji, dear, I've heard the most FASCINATING new news! The black-white has started meeting regularly with Hoshiguma Yuugi, from the underground, for drinking contests. I think she's JEALOUS of the red-white's association with Suika, and is striking out by getting her own 'oni on the side'! It's the perfect front page story for Bunbunmaru news! Of course, I'll need you to go and interview-"

Momiji lunged, her hands, which had been twitching sporadically since Aya had knocked her hard work aside, outstretched in a clawing grasp towards her superior's silky white throat, even as Aya yelped and tumbled backwards, fighting off her assault as much as she could manage. This time, she promised herself. This time, she would really go through with it, would strangle the _life_ out of the birdbrained reporter, and she would enjoy it. This time, _for sure_.

~End

xxx

A.N.

Just a little something I typed out and actually posted elsewhere first. Figured you peoples would probably enjoy it too.


	35. Golden 9

Ran groaned as she forced bleary, almost crusted over eyes to open, thankful that wherever she was, it was dark. She had a pounding headache. On top of that, her stomach was roiling and, combined with the noisome stench of this place, she wanted nothing less than to vomit. She swallowed back the bile, though, as these symptoms were familiar enough to her. It was the day after the day after Yukari had decided that they were going on another drinking binge.

She couldn't really remember much of anything of either of those days, aside from a few disjointed fragments, but somehow they had culminated with her being left inside a cage. In a sewer. Her nose crinkled in disgust as she stood up and started to walk through the far-too-widely spaced bars, cursing her master's bizarrely twisted sense of humor.

The second she tried to pass between them, she was hit by a lightning bolt and blasted backwards into a bar on the opposite side of the cage.

"... the _fuck_?" She rasped, flesh sizzling softly for a moment before her regeneration started to kick in and un-cook her body.

After a few moments of healing, she rose from the crumpled heap she had landed in, significantly more irked with the situation than she had been before. Sealed. She was in a _sealed_, oversized cage, in the middle of some sewer somewhere. Oh, she was going to rip that shrine maiden a new _asshole_, once she figured out why she'd gone along with...

Ran paused, then inspected her prison more closely, devoting her keen mystical insight to picking out tiny details. Then she winced. The seal wasn't actually binding her specifically, but in a very general sense. If she had to put it in words, it was "a ravening beast of nine mighty tales, cruelty and cunning matched only by its eternal malice and hatred of all life". Technically, if she just waited to calm down and stop wanting to hurt someone to relieve her frustration, she could probably walk right through the bars without getting any trouble from the seal, exploiting a sort of loophole. Until she could figure out _why_ the shrine maiden had used such a seal, though, she would...

Her train of thought came to a crashing halt as a half-remembered memory floated through her mind's eye. She was in full bestial form, many stories high, biting tiny, screaming, people-shaped things in half as she smashed her way through a blurry series of buildings...

...

The blood drained from her face and she went into a cold, shivering sweat as all the little details clicked together into a perfect, horrifying sense. She had attacked the human village.

_She had attacked the human village_.

She couldn't imagine the reasoning that might have led to her doing something like that, or how she had given Yukari the slip long enough to actually _do_ it, but it was the only logical conclusion that could be drawn. Her knees began to weaken, and she suddenly had to sit down. Dully, she realized that her current situation was actually most likely the best possible outcome for her. Every youkai in Gensokyo knew that attacking the human village was about as smart of an idea as setting yourself on fire in a room filled with gunpowder kegs. Almost_ every_ human that lived in the village was inordinately powerful in their own right, being descended of famous demon-hunters, and many of those actively trained in their arts, out of tradition if nothing else. The rest were those who had come in from the outside and survived all the hungry youkai of Gensokyo long enough to _make_ it to the village, or at least someone who could and would both protect them and lead them there, and so were not to be dismissed themselves. Mostly, as most of the youkai had placed them strictly off-limits, they were happy enough to adopt the 'live-and-let-live' policy of just ignoring all the dead people who weren't from Gensokyo, but it wouldn't take much to spark them into a furor and ignite a war.

_Attacking the village_... oh, yes. That would most certainly do it. Her mind quickly estimated the most likely series of events. Had she not been immediately killed or sealed in some way that was suitably flashy or gory enough to appease the humans desire for vengeance, then chaos would have erupted throughout gensokyo, and the situation would have devolved into the constant carnage of death until one side or the other had been completely eradicated. But not before _both_ sides had hunted her down to extract their own painful vengeances.

Really, this was almost unusually merciful of the shrine maiden, who had to have been talked, or possibly bribed, into it by Yukari. Technically, she could leave at any time. She just had to wait a few human generations first, to let their short memories fade, and then slip out of Gensokyo entirely and with luck nobody would even realize she was gone.

Sure, she wasn't really clear about how she was going to survive in the world outside Gensokyo, but those were thoughts for later. She quietly closed her eyes and slowly sank into a trance, to allow the time to pass more easily.

Over the years, the seal would occasionally draw at her for something. After fighting it's increasingly more desperate pull the first time, until finally giving up and allowing it to do as it pleased, and confirming that whatever it did it wasn't harmful, she concluded that it was some sort of testing mechanism, to make sure she was still securely sealed away. She considered that, and from that point allowed it to do whatever it was doing immediately, whenever it felt the need, even as she worked that into her plans and otherwise ignored it.

Then, more than a decade after she woke up inside the seal, something happened that she couldn't ignore, no matter how much she tried.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Hey!"

"Hey, you!"

"Pay _attention_ to me when I'm yelling at you, you old woman!" Naruto yelled through the bars of the cage.

"_SHUT THE HELL UP, YOU STUPID LITTLE BRAT, I'M TRYING TO SLEEP!_" Ran roared right the hell back, her patience frayed beyond all limits.

Naruto flinched, but soldiered on now that he'd caught the nine-tailed fox's attention.

"Listen, listen! I need your chakra, right now, _or we're both going to die_!" he dramatically declared.

"... I don't follow you." Ran admitted. "Your words are good, the sentence structure and grammar is there, but you're making absolutely no sense." She paused, then frowned darkly. "But kid, if that was some weird new slang you used to proposition me for sex, then I _will_ eat you, and not like how you're hoping."

"I... what?" Naruto stammered, dumbfounded. "That's... ew! That's just disgusting! You're the _Nine-Tailed Demon Fox_. When you tried to destroy Konoha, the fourth Hokage gave his _life _to seal you away, and you think that I-"

Ran stood up to her full height, face completely blank, and despite that for all intents and purposes she was just a pretty tall woman and not the mile-high unholy beast of destruction that he had been expecting, Naruto found himself suddenly very intimidated.

"What was that... you just said?" She said very slowly, not a trace of emotion to the words.

"Th-theres nothing wrong with _you_ of course, you're beautiful, it's just that I-" Naruto hastily tried to backtrack, only to be cut off with a sharp swing of Ran's hand.

"Not that. The important bit. _Where_ did I attack, again?" She asked tersely.

"... Konoha, of course." Naruto said, suddenly understanding what Ran had meant by his words not making any sense whatsoever.

"Ko-no-Ha..." Ran said slowly, almost seeming to be testing the flavor of the word before her eyes sharpened and refocused on him again. "Alright whelp, listen closely, because this is probably the most important question anyone will ever ask you. Where is Konoha?"

"... The land of Fire?" Naruto said slowly, with as much confusion as if someone had asked him what color the sky was, or whether water was wet or the one thing that burned, because they couldn't remember.

"Huh." Ran said, solemnly, processing that, and realizing that she'd spent the better part of ten years in a sewer-cage for, essentially, no reason.

The seal may as well have been a few strands of spiderweb spread between the bars, as she stepped through them with no particular resistance. Only then did she allow herself to emotionally respond to this news, even as Naruto's face went completely horror-struck and the sewer around them disappeared.

xxx

A.N.

And then she grabs naruto by the scruff of the neck and flies out of the chasm. Jiraiya isn't happy to see her and threatens to seal her away again. Ran points out that if it's the same seal this 'Yondaime' person used, she'd be slightly inconvenienced for a minute or two, and he'd be dead. Things go from there.

Geeze, I don't get why this got voted first place. Probably because I have no idea what to do with it from that point beyond 'and then everything went back to normal for Ran as she returned to Gensokyo, and all the ninjas run around like absolute morons trying to figure out what the hell just happened'. Go figure. Sure, I guess I've started stories with less of a plan than that, but I think this one's going to stay a one-shot.


	36. ZR0

Humanoid computers, androids and gynoids, rather, had become something of a fad a few hundred years previous, and while the initial enthusiasm, during which one could barely take three steps without bumping into someone's droid, had died down significantly within only a few decades, it had never truly gone away.

Especially as it was quickly discovered that sometimes, having a device that looked human but wasn't was actually a better alternative than putting a human to the task, although the reverse still very much applied. But for pursuits such as military activity, or criminal work, where it was always a risk that the soldiers or thugs would never have a sudden attack of conscience, or find themself unable to take a life, droids were almost immediately discovered to be uniquely suited to the job, having no real morals or limitations or sense of self-preservation than what was programmed into them, and with no chance of coming out the other side with mental trauma. Similarly, the sex trade flourished as new perversions came about.

True, the cost of maintenance and upkeep was rather significant, but on the other side of the coin was the fact that the droids never ate or slept, and as they were property, and not people, they didn't have to be compensated either. And though at some point, the cost of the regular maintenance and upgrades required to remain 'competitive' would begin to outweigh the gains offered by a given droid, there was always the option of junking it, and replacing it with a newer model.

Of course, one of the most integral facets to a droid's programming was the overwhelming drive to repair itself to maintain the fullest functionality possible, following damage or mechanical failure, and upon being junked, the vast majority would continue attempting to repair themselves with whatever came to hand that would fit the purpose, in an almost desperate-seeming effort to continue their own existence. It was quickly discovered that this habit, alongside some bizzare reactions that occured occasionally when combining segments of machinery and code that had quite simply never been intended to be combined, could have not only fascinating, but exceptionally dangerous effects, when the first wave of junked droids set upon a human habitation, tearing apart and canniballizing whatever they could find in order to repair and improve themselves, uncaring of the destruction of property and loss of life that came not just in the raid, but in its aftereffects as well. Legislation was quickly passed, and the junking of droids became, almost overnight, a heavily scrutinized and regulated affair, with crippling fines should it be discovered that one had simply tossed a droid out with normal garbage.

The uninhabited planet P-theta-Br-Gamma, like several others, had been converted to a 'junk' planet, one of only a very few places that droids could be legally disposed of. Unit Gyn-3747-ZR-0 was one of many, many of the first wave of droids to be unceremoniously launched out of the cargo ships which had carried them there, to be caught by the planets gravity and crash down onto its barren stone face. She had been fortunate, perhaps, in that she had been the least damaged of that first load, and as she had been a military model, it had only been the work of a few moments to gut a few of the droids not capable of rising and escaping, and use their components to repair herself.

Yes, for a time, she had been very fortunate indeed. She had been top of the line on construction, and through judicious and regular self-maintenance and upgrades, she had kept herself in far better condition than the rest of the scraps. Of course, all good things came to an end, and after only a hundred years and change, or so, models which she couldn't actually overpower started being junked, and suddenly, she was on the other side of the equation.

It was... humbling, she supposed would be the word for it, though she hadn't been aware she was capable of such feelings, to suddenly be ambushed, efficiently pinned down to prevent unneccessary damage to her components, and be stripped of whatever the current aggressor required. Certainly, she was still able enough to fend off other scraps, and repair herself with _their_ components... but when a superior model turned an eye her way, there was little to be done save sit quietly through the extraction, then hope to find a reasonable replacement part for it before redundant systems failed. Compounding the issue was that there was a very limited supply of replacement parts on the junk-world, and while for a long time she had remained at the 'top of the ladder', so to speak... well, it wasn't so much that she was sliding _down_, as she remained more or less as she had ever been, but more that the bottom rungs of that ladder were steadily being removed, and new ones added above her.

The overall effect, of course, was much the same.

As she slowly drew closer and closer to the level of the bottom rung, that of the most worthless scrap, which could be plundered by almost any droid, with all but none of her original components remaining save useless external aesthetics, she found still new surprises, as she one day realized that she was feeling... bitterness. Even spite, and the growing desire to make other droids _earn_ whatever they took.

This resolution... well, it worked out about as well as could have been expected, as a model significantly superior to her rapidly grew exasperated by the chase, and upon the conclusion, simply tore free the half of her which contained the component it required and left the rest where she fell, sliding down rubble towards a deep chasm, one arm having come free at the elbow and begun to bounce down ahead of her.

She wasn't particularly worried about the fall, even. It could not possibly be compared to impact from space, and even in current conditions, it would be more than survivable. Barely. What pained her now was the sudden inevitability, that when she landed the impact would damage her enough that she would no longer be able to move at all, and would be left to wait for one of two unavoidable outcomes. Either scavengers would come upon her, and her existence would come to a final end as they salvaged everything they could rip free and recycle, or dust would slowly cover and bury her, leaving her trapped and immobile under layers and layers of dirt. Either until scavengers happened to dig her free... or forever.

She had only begun to muse upon the implications of how she had so horribly miscalculated, when she passed the lip of the chasm and began to fall, only to almost immediately pass through a strange, free-floating green ring of nothing.

It remained for a moment after engulfing her, then winked away without so much a sound to declare that it had ever existed. Far below, the severed limb finally impacted, several fingers flying loose from their moorings and rolling slowly away.

Elsewhere, Louise Francoise le Blanc de la Valliere watched in a sort of horrified awe as her familiar appeared, crackling with electricity and slowly leaking strange fluids.

xxx

A.N. BEEN A WHILE SINCE I WROTE ANYTHING, HUH? Sorry, Life. y'know.

Anyway, uploaded this over at spacebattles just for kicks, too, so we'll see how that goes.


	37. Wandered Naruto

The Hokage frowned as Naruto began the string of handseals leading into the summoning, but leaned back into his seat. While it was unorthodox to employ summons against members of the same village, they _were_ meant to display their talents, making the village more attractive in the eyes of prospective clience, and in the end, summons were simply classified as one more ninja tool.

It was several long seconds after this that he realized old age had caught up with him, as he'd temporarily forgotten a specific bit of key information: that while Jiraiya had taught Naruto the handseals for the jutsu, he had taken sick the next day, and Naruto had never actually signed the Toad contract, or learned how to summon something in specific, as Jiraiya had insisted on being there to supervise that process, and his illness had kept him from doing so long enough that he'd determined there wasn't time to master it before the exam final anyway, and so Naruto's time had been spent studying more basic things.

What this meant, as he started to stand, before realizing it was already too late and remaining composedly in place, was that rather than effectively... 'throwing a rope' through time and space, to grab hold of a very specific sort of thing, Naruto was effectively casting out a net instead, to reel in the very first thing to become tangled in its lines, a process that was both random in its result and dangerous, as not many beings appreciated being summoned without their prior knowledge of and consent to the possibility.

She appeared then, what seemed to be a normal girl, with Naruto's final blood-stained handseal, and Sarutobi was struck with an unusual, irrational sense of... impressiveness, he supposed was almost the word he was looking for, but not quite. A sense similar to that only achieved by the most ancient and venerable of monks, but amplified manyfold over anything he'd ever noted before, to the point that... well, he wasn't quite sure how to put the description to words. A sense of enveloping, all-consuming, searing light, so similar to and yet so very different from the demonic miasma that was more familiar to ninja who had encountered such things...

Naruto, of course, did not even hesitate before making a bullheaded announcement.

"Alriiight! Hey, hey, I summoned you, so you have to help me beat that bastard, okay?"

Finally, and only in the wake of this proclamation, did the girls eyes open... and Sarutobi noted with some sense of unusual dread that while the rest of her was pale, washed out, contributing almost to a pale, nearly white and icy blue effect, those eyes were a searing, piercing red... She turned them dispassionately towards Neji, clearly sizing him up, and after a moment quite obviously dismissed him as completely and utterly inconsequential, a move which seemed to send the lad into silent and motionless fury.

"For this... you have summoned me." She spoke, words holding traces of question, but primarily statement. "His death comes at a cost."

"I... don't want you to kill him..." Naruto interjected, seeming momentarily taken aback at the casual and dispassionate offer. "Just help me _beat_ him, okay?"

"... The cost, then, will be greater still." She replied. "It is not a simple matter, to calculate the exact amount of force required to keep it still, without crushing it utterly."

Neji snapped.

"Uzumaki... for these insults, I will _humiliate_ you and your... assistant." He quietly sneered.

The girl answered with a casual, almost disinterested movement of her arm, and a pillar of light bright enough that looking directly at it was painful slammed down into the spot where Neji had, a moment ago, been standing. It faded, revealing a wide hole bored into the ground, the depths of which could not immediately be determined... Neji seemed somewhat unnerved, now, from his new position.

"You see. Had that struck home, it would have destroyed the little bug in an instant." She stated dispassionately. "Fortunate that it is nimble. But yes... a price will come due, for my assistance. This is acceptable?"

Sarutobi's dread grew to an inexplicable fever pitch following the question, but before he could act on it, to warn Naruto away from the deal, he had already enthusiastically shouted his acceptance.

What happened next... it could only be stated as an outright masssacre, as Neji Hyuga was efficiently and mercilessly blasted to within an inch of his life, the entire ordeal being almost cruel, like a child plucking... well, plucking the wings off a bug. Not out of any sense of personal malice, but rather because it was there, and the child in question was bored.

"... And so, my part of the bargain is complete. It is now time for you to fulfil yours..."

"Sure. Whatcha want?"

"... Your heart." She finally demanded, in a tone of quiet authority, as she began to step forward. "Joined to mine... we will become of one mind, and one body, your heart engulfed within my own, becoming a sum greater than its parts..."

Sarutobi stood, sense of dread peaking at a crescendo, despite the... almost-innocent, almost-sultry, phrasing of the words, helped along by the girl's dispassionate face and near emotionless tone, and that the painful light she wielded seemed to be gathering in motes at her fingertips, and ordered his ANBU into action. He hadn't the slightest idea what that girl was about to attempt... but he was about to interfere the hell right out of it.

It was still too late, however, though an ANBU was swift enough to make it there just as the girl drew up alongside Naruto, who seemed frozen motionless, like a deer that had just noticed a hungry predator and was still hoping against hope that it wouldn't be seen...

Six wings of light erupted out from the girl's back, as the ANBU landed, and one passed gracefully through his form. He froze, then, and the others hesitated for a moment, as his body language shifted, to a sudden... almost uncontainable bliss.

Then he died.

It was horrible, grotesque, as he bulged outwards, flesh and skin exploding away from bone, all melting into a uniform orangey goop, the sense of blissful, overwhelming joy not leaving for even the briefest moment until he had splattered completely against the ground, leaving behind his clothes, equipment, and a puddle.

The hesitation it brought was just enough for the girl to drive her hand into Naruto's chest... and then slowly draw it back out, no wound left behind, but something... something shining and radiant clenched in her fist, as his features went slack and his bright eyes went dull.

"... I feel... Cold..." he said, slowly, with none of the passion he would generally put into anything at all, seeming suddenly only able to muster a sense of the vaguest confusion. "... empty... I...should be... angry?"

"... What have you done?" Sarutobi whispered, voice like cold steel.

"His heart... his 'spirit', his 'soul'. It is now my property. Payment for services rendered."

She looked down at her prize, and for the first time, an emotion was on her face. Clear. Almost palpable. _Hunger_.

"Do you think I'll just stand by and _let_ you..."

"Do you think... there's really anything you can do to stop me... from anything that crosses my mind?"

She smiled, then, callously.

"But... a wager, then. You have one minute. If you can take it from me, it is yours. I am not entirely without mercy. If you fail... then your heart, as well, will join to mine..."

In lieu of a verbal answer, Sarutobi summoned Enma, who almost immediately became the adamantine staff, seeming to intuitively understand the situation, and battle was met.

xxx

A.N. Just a snippet I felt like doing. Sorry, no real updates yet... just a 'potential' thing, for the far flung future. I might do a follow-up to this... or maybe not. Well, we'll see.

Anyway, hooked on a new flash game again, as you'll see in my profile. So, a little less time for writing, a little more creativity and personal amusement when I do. Hm.


	38. Sakuya Potter

Sakuya blinked as she awoke, and took stock of herself.

Well, _Himself_, rather, as that was the most immediate and pressing irregularity she had noticed. Further consideration revealed that she, now he, was much younger than she recalled being, quite scrawny, and for whatever reason he had been sleeping on a small, thin pallet tucked away on the inside of what could only be a small cupboard of some sort.

This was not at all how she typically began her mornings, and so it could only be put to some form of outside influence. She immediately discounted one member of the mansion after another, Mistress Remilia would no doubt have been interested somehow by this turn of events, but it was doubtful that she would have gone to the effort of making them happen. Flandre and the gatekeeper were even less likely, and while the mansion recieved the occasional visitor it was never for long enough to pull the sort of jest this had to be. That left... Patchouli, or possibly that servitor devil girl she had, but Patchouli was the only remaining being within the mansion with the ability and even some sort of possible inclination to go through this.

_"My. That was a rapid deduction, and entirely correct."_

... Then it was. So, having been found out-

_"I can't make it stop. Or rather, I could, but there would be no point. You aren't the 'real' Izayoi Sakuya, you see, no matter what your memories insist. The real one is standing next to me at the moment, and is quite pleased at your intuitiveness. You are a copy, which I have... the details are rather insignificant and rife with terminology you would most likely find incomprehensible. An abridged variation would be that I created a 'copy of Izayoi Sakuya', with her memories up to the last point she awoke, and her ability, located a specific alternate universe which matched the criteria I required, then 'erased' and 'overwrote' a specific individual's identity with you, and have set a spell to 'record' what happens following this."_

Sakuya frowned, the thought of effectively murdering someone on a whim for no immediately apparent reason than to see what happened vaguely distasteful...

_"It's fine. Had he been left to his own devices, he would have miserably wasted his life anyway. I'm sure he would thank you for this, if his personality still existed. In any case, it's not like you can do anything about it now."_

... That was true enough, Sakuya supposed. It wasn't like she was a particular stranger to death, in any case.

_"There you go, now on to important things. Your name is Harry Potter-"_

What, the title character of that novel series she'd seen in the library a time or two?

_"Yes, the very same. Now, please cease conscious thought for a moment, reversing the polarity of this thing is irritating enough a venture without you interrupting the frequency. Now, your name is Harry Potter. Your caretakers are Petunia and Vernon Dursley, your aunt and uncle, and you have a cousin named Dudley Dursley. None of them like you much. You'll be expected to do the majority of the household chores... and from there, I'll let you work matters out on your own. It will be more interesting that way."_

Theoretically, Sakuya... Harry, now, assumed, it would be perfectly possible for Patchouli to dump knowledge of whatever it was that would make things 'interesting' for her ahead of time. As expected, however, after a few moments had passed, and the only occurrence was a heavy, repeated knocking at the cupboard door and insistence that breakfast be started immediately, no such information would be forthcoming.

Breakfast was almost poisonously boring in its simplicity, eggs, bacon, and sausage, the only requirement being that it not be burned, and Harry completed the task in the perfectly elegant fashion he was typically accustomed to, nearly sleeping where he stood from the dullness of it all, and thrice found himself habitually searching for vials of preserved blood to splash into the meal. He had to forcibly remind himself every time, after finding no such thing in the kitchen, that his relatives were not, in point of fact, vampires. He assumed.

The meal was apparently of a higher quality than they had expected, despite its simplicity, if the initial suspicion as they ate was any indication. It washed away as they ate, and Harry was forced to suspect that the previous Harry was either only barely capable at simple household tasks, or had pointlessly chosen not to perform at the fullest of his ability out of some sort of childish spite.

... Possibly both, he mused, considering that this body was, in point of fact, technically that of a child.

"... mail, boy."

Harry blinked, realizing he had been lost in thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Of course, Uncle." he said obediently, rising in a single fluid motion and almost gliding out of the room, hot stares of his relatives burning into his back.

How very droll. No doubt the previous Harry had habitually bad posture or would be pointlessly argumentative over performing such a small task. Likely both. The mental image of the lad was steadily worsening with every tidbit gleaned. With the picture being painted, it almost wasn't a surprise that... ah, the mail. Hm. It seemed one of the letters was for him. He absentmindedly slit it open with a small, pocketed paring knife, and began reading as he made his way back to the dining room, noting it was written on heavy parchment and in an odd sort of ink before any of the words really registered.

'Hogwarts'. Wizards and Witches. Owl. What.

"Dad!" Dudley piped up almost the moment he handed the others off to Vernon, over his shoulder. "Harry's got a _letter_."

"Poppy-"

"Indeed I do, Dudley." Harry interrupted dryly. "I'm quite sure this is the most... _fascinating _piece of news you have noted all day thus far, but is such a small thing as unexpected correspondence really worth even a moment taken away from your meal?"

"... but who'd be writing _you_?" The boy mused aloud, even as he seemed to partially agree with Harry's assessment and return his focus to more important things.

"Some place which decided that naming itself after skin blemishes of swine was an excellent idea, for whatever reason." Harry replied idly, not seeming to care how both aunt and uncle had gone suddenly still, their eyes locked on the parchment in Harry's hand. "... seems to be a school of some sort. For magic, droll as it seems. Odd that I cannot recall applying to such a place... Unless one of my guardians sent in the required forms and payment instead?"

"Most. Certainly. Not." Petunia all but hissed, even as Dudley seemed to regain interest in the conversation.

"Ah? Of course. In that case, these people are either pulling an extraordinarily elaborate prank... or this is quite genuine, and they are most insistent that I attend this... Hog place." He frowned in mild disgust at the name. "And they are not paricularly clear-headed, either, given that the message stipulates I reply 'by owl', however such a means of transportation can be managed. Am I meant to find an owl in the woods somewhere, lure it close enough to attach a letter, and then expect it to deliver it reather than retreat and pick at it until it falls off, then leave it lie? Am I expected to already have an owl prepared in advance for a reply to this letter? My word, that would be quite the nuisance, keeping a wild animal in preparation for a single undertaking. I shudder to imagine the shed feathers and droppings."

Petunia shuddered in turn, seeming able to imagine it all too vividly.

"... Ah, or perhaps it's intended to be a pet of some sort I already have in advance, as it is listed on the section under the heading 'allowed pets'. Along with a cat or a toad, though I can't imagine either of those being anything but less useful than even an owl. Hmph. Well, if it _isn't_ a joke, then with no more than a single letter they have already managed to make a _remarkably_ bad impression of themselves."

"... Then you won't be going?" Vernon asked in a sort of dull confusion, as though he hadn't at all expected things to go this way.

"Hm? Now, _that_, I didn't say. Though your recognition of the name leads me to believe this is not a hoax at all. I haven't decided. For now, though, there are more important matters to attend to, as there is still a great deal of time before my response, however it turns out to be, is required. In the meantime, I believe there are a number of chores to be dealt with?"

The Dursleys fell into a confused, but oddly speculative silence for a moment, before Petunia spoke up to outline Harry's tasks for the day.

The next morning, no less than three identical envelopes addressed to him arrived in the took a moment to confirm that they each contained the same letter before leaving them to his uncle, who burned the lot without a moment of hesitation. The next day more came, and still more after that, souring the entire household's mood with their demanding insistence. More continued to come with every sunrise, in startlingly odd ways, rolled up inside eggs and within milk bottles, impossibly dry, dozens falling down the chimney like a hailstorm, and finally driving Vernon to the breaking point of frustration.

They left the house behind, the Dursley's attitude to Harry, the focus of this mess, cool but strangely cordial in spite of things, and took temporary residence in a hotel chosen at random. The next morning, they were alerted by an attendant that there had arrived at the front desk well over a hundred identical letters for one Harry Potter. Vernon had them stuffed in a sack to dispose of later. The next port of call, after a long day of wild driving, was a small shack on a deserted island. There was no central heating, or electricity, but Harry had enough recalled familiarity to be able to locate a small stock of firewood secreted away and a warm bonfire had been built by the time a storm overhead broke.

At midnight, the loud and booming noise of someone knocking at the door sounded, and a remarkably large and hairy man forced entry, accidentally smashing the door down in its entirety to do so. he introduced himself as Rubeus hagrid, compounded with meaningless titles, and there was some unpleasantness as heated words were exchanged with Vernon, concluded with Hagrid bending the barrel of a shotgun to complete uselessness and arbitrarily enchanting Dudley such that he sprouted a pigs tail. A dark cast fell over Harry's face.

Hagrid then extracted another, still identical, letter from somewhere inside his greatcoat and proferred it to Harry.

Harry thanked, him, frostily but politely, and without hesitation flicked it into the red-hot coals of the died down fire.

xxx

Snippet time! And I have so many other things I should be doing right now. But I ended up banging this out anyway.


	39. Sakuya Potter 2

Hagrid gaped dumbly as the letter burned.

"Wha... Wha'd ye do that for?"

In response, Harry simply withdrew his original, by now somewhat worn and crinkled, letter. Hagrid blinked slowly at the sight of it.

"Mr. Hagrid. You'll find that this is the very first letter that was sent to me, and as the following were all identical duplicates, thoroughly unneccessary."

"Bu... If you'd read the letter, why didn't ye send a reply?"

"Reply? Leaving aside the fact that you assume that I would make a life-changing decision with less than a single day's consideration, please explain exactly _how_ you intended to have me reply?"

"Why, just send a owl, o' course-"

"_What_ owl, Mr. Hagrid?" Harry pressed on. "If you pause for a moment, you will find that the Dursley's own no pets of any sort, much less anything so... exotic."

After a long moment of hesitation, Hagrid was forced to reluctantly admit that this was the case.

"But then ye only had t' go as far as Diagon Alley in london t' buy one!" He insisted, still quite certain that he had the right of things.

"Indeed? And do tell, Mr. Hagrid... exactly where is this Alley located? You will find that this parchment does not, in fact, include a map."

Hagrid gaped, once more caught completely flat-footed by this simple, yet stunning, truth, ant turned pleading eyes slowly to Petunia.

"Oh, don't look at _me_." She sniped. "I've never been, wouldn't have the slightest idea of where to start looking in all of London, even if I _was_ inclined to pack up and spend the day driving to and all about town."

"But yeh could just get to the Leaky Cauldron..."

"Firstly, I've never heard of such a place, but let's leave that aside for a moment and bring up the question of how you intended I get _there_. Hm?"

"Well, all sortsa ways. Ye could take the Knight Bus, or a portkey, or floo, and it'll take you right to the door or inside. Too young to apparate, of course."

"I see. And how do these modes of travel work, Mr. Hagrid?"

"Well, easy enough. For the Knight Bus, ye just raise... your wand..." Hagrid broke down under Harry's withering stare and quickly moved along in an attempt to make himself seem less foolish. "Er, well. For a portkey, ye just need to... uh, ter enchant a... well, in any case, for Floo, yeh just need to take a pinch o' floo powder an'... an throw it inter a lit fireplace, and, uh..."

Hagrid slowly trailed off under Harry's unblinking, chilling gaze. The boy wasn't saying a word, and yet, beneath those eyes hagrid was still starting to feel like the most useless, bumbling buffoon the world had to offer.

"... I see. In short, I am correct, and there was indeed _no_ means of responding to this invitation available, _nor_ was there any functional way of locating a place where such means could be procured save choosing to go completely against routine to wander about someplace, happening to decide to meander about London, and from there being fortunate enough to locate this place through no more than sheer happenstance and coincidence." Harry summarized.

"Further, following my failure to live up to your thoroughly unreasonable expectations, you deliberately began a campaign to pester and harass both myself and my family, sending, at my last count, no less than two hundred and seventy three identical letters, no doubt wasting several trees worth of paper in the process of driving my uncle half-mad. You have _personally_ come to deliberately harass and bully my family with powers that it seems they are neither capable of understanding or countering on their own-"

"See here now! It wasn't like that at... well, it wasn't quite... that wasn't..."

Harry's cold stare had been joined by a slight frown, and Hagrid's indignation at the description petered slowly off as he found that, not only was Harry correct in certain respects, even he couldn't really think of it any other way now, no matter what justification he may have had, or how good an idea it had seemed at the time.

"I'll tank you not to interrupt when I am speaking." Harry frostily picked up, once hagrid had been silenced. "In any case, you have certainly made quite possibly the worst possible impression you could have, and you'll find that I have only two reasons I am not at this very moment telling you _exactly_ where this invitation of yours can be put. First, the desperate, optimistic hope that, in spite of the arrogant, self-absorbed, thoughtless bully you have proven at the _very_ least yourself and whoever tasked you with this nonsense to be, you might not be an example of your kind as a whole."

Hagrid winced at the clearly enunciated 'your', and wondered how things had spun so out of control, as by this point it should have been an '_our_ kind'.

"Second..." Harry continued. "... The _distinct_ sense that, given how _insistent_ you seem to be that I attend your academy of magics, that I am somehow terribly important to you lot. To the point that I very much doubt I can tell you to go back and rot beneath whatever slime-ridden hole you crawled out of and it will stick. No, I presume that years of harrassment much in the vein of what has already come would follow such a declaration."

The Dursleys went simply white at the thought of it, Dudley whimpering as he clutched at his posterior, from which now sprouted a curly tail.

"... So, I will agree. On three conditions. First, you will give me the _exact_ locations of any magical locations you consider might in even the _vaguest_ way be useful to me, and instructions on how to make my way there from a non-magical reference point. Including whatever... mystic rituals or incantations may be required to make my entry to these places. Fail to do so, and I will decline to accept your invitation. Second, you will _immediately_ counteract the hostile magic you have placed on my cousin-"

"Now see here, boy!We don't want any more-" Vernon interrupted.

"Should you do _anything_ save remove the transformation you have already emplaced," Harry counter-interrupted, "It will be taken as a breach of trust regarding this agreement, and you will find yourself forced to explain, in detail to your superiors, _why_ you have returned from your task empty-handed. Third, you will _cease_ plaguing my family immediately." Harry finished sternly. "There will be no more letters. There will be no visitors, witches, wizards, or otherwise, from your magical world. If there is even a _sniff_ of anyone aside myself being linked to you in _any_ way, on all Privet Drive, then our agreement is cancelled and i will immediately have myself removed from your school. Are these terms... _acceptable_, Mr. Hagrid?"

Hagrid moved his mouth for a moment silently, then just nodded.

"Yeah... yeah, I figure that'll be fine with Dumbledore..."

"Excellent. We leave in the morning. you will, of course, guide me." Harry said, not asking but simply stating outright that This was how things would Be, and Hagrid glumly nodded in response.

Hagrid mumbled a quick countercharm under his breath, twitching his umbrella towards Dudley, and fortunately for him it worked exactly as intended as the tail melted back int his flesh, leaving nothing behind but a small hole in his clothes.

He frowned, and after a moment reached into his coat for his last gambit, a desperate peace offering.

"I, eh... I brought Cake? Might've sat on it at some point, but..." he mumbled, withdrawing a battered looking box. "Well... Happy birthday?"

Harry's stare grew both slightly more and less withering at the display, in different ways, even as Dudley's eyes locked onto the box.

"Mr. Hagrid." Harry stated seriously. "We are _not_ friends, and I am not the sort of person who could be so easily bribed with a sugary treat... However, despite that I'm full, Dudley seems hungry." He admitted.

"Don't take _anything_ from-"

"I will, of course, take the first piece, such that my family can assure themselves that you were _not_ so foolish as to offer me a poisoned cake."

Hagrid very much got the feeling that, on the sliding scale of 'deliberate jerk' versus 'idiot', he'd managed to just barely weigh himself over to the side of simple idiocy. Unfortunately enough, he also got the feeling that that was likely the best he could hpe for at the moment.

xxx

AAAAnd a follow-up. Still while I should be doing other things. Sakurry basically just shuts _everyone_ down, rants, and makes demands. You can imagine he's Not Pleased by this. Granted, not much different, from, possibly, Remilia, but 'devil you know and are familiar with', and all that. And she can back it all up. Whereas, if Sakurry is pushed far enough, just one Time-Stop away from a great hall full of throat-slittery. That _probably_ won't happen, though.


	40. Sakuya Potter 3

Harry was awake before dawn, stoking and rebuilding the small bonfire, and was only mildly inconvenienced when a large bird arrived at the window, insisting on being let in. hagrid sleepily arose, and Harry watched in mild bemusement as the giant, hairy man casually shuffled a few coins out of a pocket and exchanged them for a newspaper. Just... casually. As though there wasn't anything odd about initiating commerce with... well, that one Tengu _did_ run her own little gossip-rag, but one would think that business ventures would become _more_ successful, rather than less, the closer one appeared to a human.

Well, that aside, hagrid spent several minutes flipping idly through the paper before he lurched to his feet, tossing it idly towards the fire. Well, that wouldn't do. Harry plucked it casually out of the air in mid-arc and began leafing through it himself.

"Eh... not really got the time for that, was about ready to be headin' off."

"Oh? Should I wake them?" Harry wondered aloud, eyes not moving from the headlines of beaurocratic errors having been sniffed out as he began assembling an idea of what the magical government may be like.

"Nah, nah, let'm sleep. 'S a bit early, an' all." Hagrid denied, seeming to have put some slight thought into the attempt at kindness.

Harry glanced out the window briefly.

"... I suppose your boat is on the other side of the island, then?"

"Nah, nah, didn't paddle over. Flew."

"I see. We'll be flying across, then?" Harry asked noncomittaly, really thinking nothing of the admission.

"... Er, well, strictly speakin', I'm not supposed to use magic once I've actually caught up to yeh..." Hagrid stumbled, a no withought actually using the word. "We'll be takin' the boat across."

"I see. The boat." Harry said slowly.

"Aye."

"... Leaving my family _here_ as we go." he said carefully, making sure he was getting this correctly as his eyes left the paper.

"... Aye t' that as well?"

Harry blinked once, very slowly, as he considered this.

"Is there some way you intend to send the boat back, after we're across?" He asked.

"Well, uh... strictly speakin', like I said, not supposed to..." Hagrid trailed off once more as Harry's blankest stare settled directly upon him.

"Mr. Hagrid... I don't know if you realize this, but what you're suggesting is that we abandon my family here on a rock nearly a mile out from the coast, with no transportation or food, leaving the boat tied up at shore as a suggestion that they are not, in fact, here at all, so that nobody will come searching here for them. I'm not entirely sure if any of them even know how to swim, and at a guess I'd say the currents of this are probably sweep things right out to sea. Now, I'm not sure you _realize_ this, Mr. Hagrid... but that sort of situation leaves chances of survival as minimal at best. Effectively, your suggestion is that instead of waking my family up, we kill them."

Hagrid had gone bone white at some point during the stark explanation.

"I... I didn' think of it that way..." he admitted, suddenly looking horribly worried. "... Lets jus' wake your folks up then, eh?"

The Dursleys were, of course, not pleased at being roused from their slumber, but as hagrid was the one offering to use his _very large_ muscles to kindly row them back to shore, they left things at only a little grumbling, and the trip passed in near silence, and they separated at the shore, the Dursley's driving off towards their home, leaving it to Hagrid to get them to wherever they needed to go. To his credit, he had little trouble doing so, although he had to stop a couple times to get coinage values explained and re-explained to him, fortunately enough Sakuya had been at least casually familiar with them, and kept muttering under his breath about 'the cleverness of 'muggles'' about even simple things, leaving Harry with dismal expectations regarding this magical world.

"Here we are then, 'Arry. The Leaky."

It didn't look like much. Then, in what experience could be drawn from, admittedly little, pubs _never_ looked like much, and the way casual bystanders' eyes went blank for the brief moment it took to cross over the face of the business to the next building down was at least a little promising.

The inside was also more or less as expected. more, because it conformed almost exactly to the steryotypical 'single smokey, dimly lit room', with the barkeep idly rubbing a cup with a rag as he looked over his customers. He smiled at hagrid as they stepped forward.

"Rubeus, good fellow. Your usual?" He asked.

"Can't Tom, sorry. Here on Hogwarts business with Harry 'ere."

Tom's gaze turned towards Harry, and his face went breifly slack, as though from shock, before shifting to delight.

"It can't be..." He said, voice slowly rising, customers starting to turn to see what the barman was so excited about. "Is it really, Ha-"

Harry stopped time.

He really had to consider this. Everything suggested that he was a famous figure among these people, and if this barkeep's reaction was a standard thing, given the unexpected meeting, then if he just blurted out who he was in the middle of a crowd... ugh, harry would almost immediately be crushed in an onrushing of eager, unwashed and greasy flesh, pressing against him from all sides. Not at all a pleasant thought, and a situation he would certainly rather avoid if at all possible. He could just leave, of course, but that would raise questions of sudden disappearances, and certainly alarm Hagrid, and he just didn't feel like explaining things to people. So, a plan.

So, after a few minutes outside of time, Harry nodded to himself and walked through the room, checking prices of drinks and picking up a golden coin that had dropped to the floor beside a table a group of thoroughly inebriated old men were playing Poker at, then returned to his original position.

Harry restarted time.

"-rry P-"

"Portsmith, yes Tom. It's good to see you again as well." Harry interjected smoothly. "Father sends his regards, of course. I don't suppose I could trouble you for a glass of milk? I'm afraid I'm somewhat thirsty. Keep the change."

Harry dropped the coin to the counter, and Tom's eyes flicked down to it for a long moment before coming back up, a carefully neutral expression on his face, not at all unfamiliar with the concept that a customer may be willing to pay extra for privacy.

"Of course... young master Portsmith." He agreed cheerily, tucking away the gold and bustling about filling a glass. "Suppose your father's sent you to ask about getting another bottle of the good stuff, then? Guess it's about time."

Harry nodded absently as the other patrons turned back to their own affairs, not interested in apparently personal matters, and ignored hagrid's bland confusion.

xxx

Lesson of the day: If you can stop time, you don't need to be a naturally smooth talker _or_ plan all your conversations out in advance. You can take all the time you need for every response.

And technically, regarding the 'abilities carrying over' thing, for now I'm going with 'It's magic, I ain't gotta explain shit'.


	41. Third Moon

Inubashiri Momiji, Youkai Mountain's White Wolf Tengu, wasn't entirely sure what was going on. She had simply woken up that morning, sword and shield conspicuously absent, and apparently now a Miko of some kind. She wasn't entirely sure how Reimu or Sanae would take this turn of events, but as she didn't seem to be in Gensokyo anymore, much less on youkai mountain, she supposed it didn't really matter. Fortunately, there didn't seem to be any gods in the shrine proper, so that was at least one less concern to deal with. And in other respects, the situation was more than acceptable.

"Feeding those crows of yours again? Well, you know where everything is. Don't let me keep you." Her shriveled 'grandfather' cheerily declared, waving idly from his lounging seat, eyes not budging for a second from the tight bodysuits of the women exercising on the television. "Could you start dinner afterwards?"

"Of course, Grandfather." She replied, smiling brightly.

The sack of bird feed weighed something like fifty pounds when full, and was mostly composed of dehydrated corn, grains, and seeds. The sack was nearly full, and she hefted it thoughtlessly in one hand, no concern whatsoever for the weight, whistling lightly as she stepped back out of the storage shed.

"... Oh, come _on_. You're still doing this?" The complaint came as she measured out a handful of feed.

"That's one serving..."

Hatate nodded idly, cupping her hands to recieve the feed without any real complaint.

"Jeeze, do you have _any_ idea how humiliating it is for you to give us _bird food_ to eat?" Aya continued whining.

"I would suppose it would be roughly the same as giving me a can of _dog food_ for a meal, and every bit as amusing. Consider it karmic retribution, perhaps, miss Aya?" Momiji replied, casual smile not shifting an iota. Her teethe were, however, if one looked closely, slightly grit.

Aya grumbled under her breath, but took the feed, ignoring the crunching sound of Hatate chewing at her portion.

"One for one seems pretty fair, I guess." the junior reporter stated, ignoring the glower Aya sent her way for the remark.

"I thought so as well!" Momiji cheerily agreed. "And since nobody else seems to register you as anything but slightly overlarge crows, this seems like the best opportunity I have to get even. So, from now, bird feed for you for...a week and three days still. And for Miss Aya, seven years, eleven months, two weeks, and six days until things have evened out."

xxx

AN

Yes, I know, not on the list. Don't care. Just ran with a thought.


	42. Sakuya Potter 4 Omake?

Knives. Knives were the issue of the moment. Harry could still throw them, of course, though not with the pinpoint distance accuracy that Sakuya had been used to, and could pick out properly balanced sets from silver-plated trash studded with pearls, and a brief stop in the goblin-run bank had proven that he had the money to spare for the neccessities of proper bladed weaponry, and a quick wander down Knockturn Alley, which Hagrid had taken pains to warn him was 'dangerous' and therefore interesting, had provided a shop that sold what he needed for perfectly reasonable prices. Granted, they seemed to focus on big, flashy weapons, two handed claymores, flails, giant warhammers and the like, but he'd quickly located a couple servicable sets of used blades.

The question was, of course, where to keep them strapped. Arms had always been awkward, though with looser sleeves it might be more feasible. Nothing from the knees down... it would generally take an extra fraction of a second to get a hand down to his calf or the inside of a boot. Of course, the ability to stop time left the whole point completely and utterly moot, but efficiency should still be considered.

The preferred placement would, of course, be strapped to the thigh, within a finger-twitch's reach from a hand left idly dangling... but, of course, that would be significantly more difficult to both keep hidden and within easy reach while wearing trousers. If Harry were wearing a skirt, like Sakuya's previous uniform had offered, then it would be no issue at all, but given the current fact that Harry was _male_, such a wardrobe choice was definitely out of the question.

He paused for a moment to consider the bystanders and passers-by, almost uniformly wearing long, loose, simple-dress-like robes.

Alright. So maybe it was only _probably_ out of the-

Harry's thoughts were interrupted again as a pair of burly, hairy men staggered jovially out of a pub, one wearing a kilt and carrying bagpipes, the other loudly complaining about having had to wander out to 'the muggle side of things' to pick up a few things 'for the missus', which was why he was still wearing his 'muggle clothes' from the excursion. Those being a flowing, flower-embroidered summer dress and boots. He wasn't getting very many odd looks at all, just the odd nod of sympathy from a bystander or two. Huh.

... So, on reconsideration, it probably wasn't at all outside the realm of possibility. And it would certainly be a more comfortable and familiar option for... Harry shook his head absently, not sure why he was still thinking about this. Besides, his hair was entirely too short to pull of...

A bottle advertised as being filled with 'rapid hair-growth potion' sat almost temptingly on the other side of the dingy, grungy window he'd turned his head towards. As though the world itself was setting up arbitrary coincidence after coincidence to break down his resistance to... Well, fine then. One extra outfit wasn't really going to hurt anything, and it wasn't like he would really have to wear it all the time...

xxx

AN

Maybe or maybe not an Omake. Sets up stuff for MASKED MAID OF JUSTICE side-stuff later, though.


	43. Breaking in Rumia

It was a black dome.

That was all Louise could say about it, really, shutting out the confused mutterings of her fellow students as she analyzed it. A simple patch of space that seemed completely empty, black as the deepest night. Not shiny, or glossy black, or like velvet, but simply... darkness. Greedily drawing in the sunshine around it and devouring it, turning everything within its reach into an anti-light. She passed a hand tentatively through its boundary.

No noticeable effect. Her arm simply swung through the patch of air the same as it would any other patch of air, with no sense that it might have been stopped, or even slowed, by anything. It was simply as though a dome of darkness had risen up to form a shadow in three dimensions.

It was all well and good, Louise supposed, and she was a little happy to have at least manages to summon SOMETHING, nebulous lump of intangible night that it might be, but she couldn't help but wonder how exactly she was supposed to contract with something like this, without any substance to its shape and form. Then it lifted up off the ground, floating slightly, and it clicked in a burst of intuitive comprehension. The dome was not a dome, but an orb, and there was something inside of it. Creating it, like a protective shell against the light.. probably nocturnal. She'd never heard of such a beast, but it wasn't impossible, though certainly neither common, for the summoning to bring a sort of creature that had never been seen before. She felt a brief swell of pride as she realized she might be the first in over a century to be added to that short list of names. It floated a little further up and to the side, and she realized belatedly that if she delayed too long, it might simply drift off.

"Don't go!" She called, before she could stop herself, or consider that she may have just spooked it with the noise. She was surprised, however, as it stopped in place.

"Don't go?" It called back, in an almost querying tone, speaking, for whatever reason, with the tongue of a girl perhaps a few years her junior.

It drifted slightly, in a different direction, and Louise realized that the... that whatever it was, it was either a cunning parroter of sounds, or bore enough intelligence of its own to comprehend speech. It might need to be bargained with.

"I have summoned you here." She declared simply, uncertain as to how this would go, what she might offer that would entice it.

"You have summoned me... here? Is that so..." The thing in the orb mused, floating gently in place, and confirming itself to be the latter of Louise's suspicions. There was a sudden soft crackling noise, and a smell... not unlike singed hair, in fact, and the speaker continued in a different vein.

"... I am hungry." It said, simply. "Will you fill my belly?"

Louise felt a sudden surge of relief that things would prove to be simpler than she'd expected, despite the being's unusual intelligence.

"Contract with me." She offered. "Become my familiar, and you will be fed."

"Is that so~" The voice came again, this time seeming interested, rather than simply curious. "Fa-mi-liar..." It spoke, seeming to taste the word, before the orb suddenly jerked, and it spoke another word in mild distaste, one she was not familiar with. "Shikigami. You would be the master?"

"And your belly would be filled." Louise countered, deliberately playing to the whatever-it-was' sole apparent interest. The orb bobbed slowly up and down in the air, as it seemed to consider the offer... then there was another soft crackle, accompanied by the same burnt-hair smell, followed quickly by a cheery "Ok~"

"Hold still." Louise requested, the negotiation having come to a mutually satisfying conclusion. "I will contract with you, and then I will give you food."

A soft humming of what was probably assent came from the orb and, after steeling herself and taking a deep breath, Louise stepped inside of it.

It was darker than she had ever imagined darkness could bee. Even in the deepest, blackest of nights, there would always be some trace, some mote of light, even if merely the twinkling of stars through clouds, but this... this was different. Pure. Empty. A nothingness that she could almost swear yawned infinitely in every direction, had she not known the orb had dimensions. Or did it. A sudden, primal paranoia filled her. What if she was wrong? What if there were no boundaries, and this... nothingness, empty void, simply continued on in every direction forever, once a fool had stumbled within? The sudden dread overwhelmed and drowned out the sudden, hindbrain correlation to her mockingly granted title of 'Zero', and her skin crawled. She barely kept herself from stumbling to her knees... it was as though she had been struck blind and would never again see.

She stepped forward, awkwardly, footing suddenly uncertain now that she could see neither her feet nor the ground they stood upon, and grasped carefully forward with outstretched hands. Fingers met soft flesh, and hair, and a warm cavern of a mouth eagerly accepted her thumb, a wet tongue running up to slide around the digit before she tugged her limb backwards sharply, mind so preoccupied with -face that's a face, it was a head a human head, why would it have that- that she missed the following sharp click of teeth against teeth entirely. She breathed softly, but heavily, for a moment before reaching out again with both hands and setting them on the sides of the head.

"Pentagon of the five elemental powers." She chanted. "Bless this..." She thought quickly and left off the traditional 'humble' portion for worry of causing offense. "... being, and make it my familiar."

As she finished the chant, she leaned in, placing a brief kiss against the familiar's brow.

It screamed.

After several minutes of panic, during which she had stumbled out of the rapidly thrashing orb, the familiar floated sulkily in place. She could tell its mood because she had insisted that it lower the intensity of its orb of shadow, to the point where she could actually make out the being within. Not clearly, of course, there was only so begrudgingly far the familiar had been willing to go, even at the insistence of its new master, and she had decided not to push it, but enough that she could make out a vague form, if not a few features. It was in the shape of a simple peasant girl. Illusion at best, because it couldn't possibly be human, that creature of darkness, and the lowest part of its feet were floating a half dozen handspans off the ground besides.

"It hurt." The familiar said, grumpiness coloring its tone. "You didn't mention that."

"I had not thought to." Louise replied honestly. "Before you, a summoning would only bring wild, dumb animals, and they would thrash regardless, of fear or confusion. I don't know that anyone was aware the contract caused pain. And it's over now, is it not, and you soon to be fed?"

As she had thought, the blatant redirection brought the familiar out of it's funk. She could almost swear she saw the tiniest pinpricks of red, floating where its eyes should be, as it seemed to look around the clearing.

"... I am hungry." it declared, then after a moment raised an arm, pointing. "I want to eat that. May I?"

Louise's gaze tracked the extended finger to... oh no. To a somewhat portly classmate, suddenly clutching his own familiar, a particularly large rabbit, to his chest with worry.

"No, dear." She said carefully, trying to keep her voice soothing as possible. "That belongs to someone else, you can't eat it. But I'll feed you. Wait patiently, and I'll have a servant bring you all the meat you can eat."

"... fresh? Dripping with life?" The familiar asked, allowing its arm to drop as it turned back to Louise. She swallowed back bile at the thought, inhumanity reinforced.

"... Yes." She said weakly, then continued, hoping she was making her voice sound enticing. "Freshly slaughtered livestock. Just dripping with... blood."

The familiar's head tilted slightly to the side, and this time she could almost see a subtle flash, along with the noise as smell, as a hand seemed to reach up reflexively to something at its head before stopping short of it.

"... A cow?" It asked, seeming uncertain of something.

"Yes." Louise agreed quickly to the demand, thinking it better than letting it run amok and devour other familiars freely, and mind desperately whirling to find out what... ah. "I'll have them lead it in live." She said, coaxingly, though haltingly. "And you can eat it as you please, killing it yourself, if you want."

"... Okay~" The familiar agreed after only a moment, though it seemed a little irritated still. Possibly that it could not pick and choose its own prey, despite that the bounty was greater in Louise's agreement. Perhaps rabbits were a particular preference. Well, she would discover sooner or later.

She had much yet to learn, about her new familiar.


	44. Breaking in Rumia 2

Rumia floated gently out in the breeze, watching the moons floating above, as the Master that had called her here slumbered, having not considered for even a moment slumbering in the pile of straw that had been apologetically offered, with the explanation that she had been expecting something simpler of the summons.

Not that she took any offense, having slept in meaner conditions, but being so close to a slumbering, vulnerable Master was... it would be tempting. Just a nibble, just a bite, just a feast~ And then she would have to quietly leave before someone noticed that she was still here, and the Master wasn't, and started asking unfortunate questions, and then brought in shrine priestesses.

No, it wasn't a good idea, but she could still turn the situation to her advantage somehow, if she-

Rumia shook her head awkwardly, having just lost her train of thought. No, better not to meddle with the Master, no matter how tempting and vulnerable, instead... hm, she would have to think-

Rumia took a deep breath, ignoring her growing headache as she watched the moons. Her mood had begun to sour for some reason, and she thought for a moment about sneaking, creeping, through the window and back into the room where the slumbering Master remained, unguarded and so frail~ No, she had the feeling, for some reason, that it was a bad idea. Hmph, never mind then...

There was a soft tittering below, and she peered through the dimness to see a fair-haired human couple relaxing beneath the moonlight, and her mind turned towards a course that would not require her to endure the pain brought by focused thought. She floated down.

"Oh, sir Guiche~" The girl giggled, cheeks flushed with the wine they were sipping. "This was such an excellent idea, a rendevous beneath the starlight..."

"Indeed, their merry twinkle has captured many a heart. But I, for one, am more enraptured by the sparkle of your eyes, my dear."

The girl giggled at the man's heavy-handed seduction attempts, pressing him for more wine.

"I like the moons, here." Rumia said simply, in lieu of an introduction.

"Indeed, their shine is... eh? Who goes there!"

Rumia floated forward, darkness slightly deeper about her than the rest of the night.

"... You are that Louise's familiar." He said, recognition delayed until he realized the girl before him was not connected to the ground. "Feh. Be off, I've no interest in dealing with you."

"Is that so? But I was watching the moons, and heard your merriment. And now I am hungry."

"Be off, I said." Guiche insisted. "Stubborn familiar. If you hunger, rouse your master, or find a servant, I care not, but do not trouble me for the repast set out for myself and my flower of the night."

The girl swooned, and Rumia noted that her clothes were of a substancially poorer quality than the Guiche's own, but thought no more of it.

"Hm. But why should I go, when the means to filling my belly already lies so near at hand?" Rumia asked, tilting her head to one side.

"Peh. You do not listen, when addressed by nobility. Such will end poorly for you, and my patience is not limitless, for even a classmate. This is the third time, and so shall it be the final: begone with you, else I shall effect your removal personally."

"Is that so? Scary, scary~ Such a cruel boy, behind the pretty face~" Rumia jibed, acting and reacting without thought, as came naturally to youkai.

The Guiche rose with a lurch, snarling at the insult.

"You dare speak so, to your betters, familiar?"

"Not at all! When I should find someone my better, I'll indeed hold my tongue~"

"Valkyrie!" Guiche barked, drawing a rose and twitching it as a form of brass and edges rose from the dirt. "You have offered me insult, familiar, and I shall not stand for it. I'll have satisfaction carved from your flesh."

Rumia laughed delightedly as it moved to the attack, floating out of the way of its cleaving strokes and broadsword, pivoting and whirling, and... through! Then, behind it, reaching and lunging and... and very quickly floating upwards instead, as the Guiche brought a second Valkyrie to form and substance, a broadsword of its own sliding through the space she had occupied a moment before.

"Foolish familiar." Guiche chided. "At any time, I am capable of controlling up to four of my lovely warriors. Certainly, of course, I need not waste the full extent of my power on the likes of you."

In some part of her brain, Rumia sighed, predatory nature having written the Guiche off as 'too much trouble'. That didn't mean, however, that she couldn't keep playing.

"Fun~" She declared happily, continuing to float away, just ever so slightly out of reach of the Valkyrie's strikes, leading him onwards. "Play with me, sir Guiche!"

"You think this is a game, wretch?" the noble child snapped back. "My Valkyrie will cleave you in half!"

"Maaybe~" She agreed. "If that is so... then you win! What better game could there be?"

Guiche muttered dire imprecations to himself as he pressed on, the golems only ever coming, at most, a hairs-breadth from Rumia's skin as she cheerfully egged him on, off the well maintained grounds and into the forest, through leafy trees and between solid trunks, where a time or two the blades of his Valkyrie would become lodged for a moment. Minutes passed.

"Ah... I'm bored, sir Guiche~" Rumia declared.

"Do you think I care ANYTHING for your mood, wretched little beast?"

"Is that so...? Hm~ Well, let's play a different game, now, sir Guiche. A fun game! Seek me out where I hide~"

"I'm not playing games with you!" Guiche insisted, as Rumia floated above the canopy. "... Ugh. Foul little familiar. I shall have to have words with Louise about its behavior. For now I..."

He paused, a slow sense of realization settling in as he looked around scenery that would only be vaguely familiar to him at best in the daylight hours, and was utterly alien under starlight.

"I... where am I? Which way is out of this forest?

In the meantime, Rumia had drifted down to the place of the rendevous, where the girl had polished off the rest of a bottle on her own, and was eagerly setting into some manner of pastry. She watched for a moment, as the girl licked cream away from rough-looking fingers.

"Hello~" She called out, and the girl gave a start, peering blearily out into the darkness through what was no doubt a drunken haze.

"... Sir Guiche?" She called hesitantly. "Is that you?"

"Not so~" Rumia answered. "Poor sir Guiche is alone and cold, lost in the wood..."

The girl didn't seem to particularly care. Hm. How interesting!

"Will you help him, the poor lost boy?"

"... What help might I be?" The girl asked blearily. "Sir Guiche is a noble, his magics will see him safe."

"Not so, if he has lost his wand~" Rumia said, without hesitation. "Dropped it, the rose, perhaps in a babbling brook, where a fish took it and swam away. He would be helpless and afraid~"

The woman gasped in sudden horrified dismay, the tale seeming perfectly reasonable to her through the alcohol clouding her reason.

"Oh no! Poor sir Guiche..."

"I could guide you to him." Rumia said flippantly. "Would he not be indebted to you, hm? I wonder what he might offer his rescuer~"

The girl's eyes flashed with a sudden, momentary greed, and she rose to her feet, staggering as the world whirled about her.

"Follow my voice~" Rumia called eagerly as she floated away, the girl stumbling drunkenly after her.

She led her into the forest, calling back mild encouragement and suggestions of how pleased Guiche would be if she found him, only to stop as they came to a halt in a small clearing.

"... Ah?" The girl moaned in confusion. "Where are we, miss familiar? I hear no brook... I see nobody. Is sir Guiche not here?"

"So he is not~" Rumia admitted, and lunged.

Guiche found his way out of the forest some time later to find all the pastries eaten, and Rumia smiling as she finished off the last off his wine.

"Ah, sir Guiche!" She declared cheerily. "You've found me~"

"Wretched familiar." He groaned in exhaustion. "... Where is Anna?"

"The girl?" Rumia asked, tilding head to one side before smiling. "I said where you were. And now she is gone~"

"She went into the woods? Alone?" Guiche asked, eyes widening. "Why... it's dangerous! Wolves travel these forests at night. She could be dead now!"

Rumia shrugged idly.

"That may be so~"

"Do you care nothing for it? Ugh... I will pray to the founder she returns safe, else I might be held responsible. I should cut you down where you stand..."

"Hm? Perhaps Sir Guiche would like to play again~"

Guiche snorted in profound disgust.

"I will still have my satisfaction of you... but at a place and time of my choosing. We will duel in the walled enclosure of the Vestri Court, at high noon. You'll not make a fool of me again, running and hiding in the dark like vermin."

Rumia tilted her head, then smiled as she floated up and away, leaving Guiche to puzzle out how to deal with the mess made of his picnic.


	45. Breaking in Rumia 3

"What. Did. You. Do." Louise said clearly, deliberately, entire body trembling from the effort it took her to remain calm. That her familiar was affecting an oblivious confusion didn't help matters.

"Guiche has been standing in the middle of a courtyard since before I woke. He skipped classes, had breakfast delivered, and hasn't made any attempt to flirt with anyone. They say he's waiting for you to show up for a duel- he's never been this serious about anything before. Which means, somehow, while I was asleep, you managed to enrage him beyond all reason. How."

"I saw him meeting with a girl... and I was hungry. So I played with them a little, and then ate~" Rumia answered cheerfully.

Louise groaned indecipherably.

"... you ruined one of that playboy's little trysts, then." She said glumly. "Ugh. That would do it. But why?"

"I was hungry, and food appeared." Rumia repeated, as though it should be obvious.

"That's... You'd eaten an entire cow before I went to bed, how could you still have been hungry? You stripped it to the bones! You ate the bones! There wasn't even a spot of blood on the floor left." she finished, giving off a sense of incapability to comprehend how that had been pulled off.

Rumia just shrugged vaguely.

"... Tch. Well... maybe if you apologized, and I paid for the food, he'd drop things... but ugh, if he'd expected any sort of companionship from his playing about, that won't be nearly enough to salve his pride..."

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Because Guiche is a Noble." Louise explained. "So am I, of course,which makes things better and worse. Better, because if it was just you and him, there would be nothing to be done if he decided to bring his entire noble family against you. You may be... unique, as familiars go, but if he complained loud and hard enough, the rest of his family would send at least a half-dozen triangle class mages just to appease him. Worse, because while I can shield you to some degree from that sort of political maneuvering, if he pushes things far enough I'll probably have to back down and give some sort of concession."

"... Why would you want to do that?" Rumia asked again, head tilted to the side.

"Because as my familiar, you are an extension of myself." Louise continued wearily. "It's... it's politics. And it seems like he does have a valid complaint to bring to bear, trifling though others might consider it. If it doesn't get settled, and neither of us backs down, then it could lead to a fued opening between our families. I don't know how Guiches's parents might react to something like that..." Her face went an odd shade of pale, with a tinge of green as she hesitated. "... But I'm sure that whatever concession might be demanded can't possibly be as bad as what my lady-Mother might do to express her displeasure."

"... that sounds complicated." Rumia decided after a long moment, as the smell of singed hair filled the room. "And boring. You should just get stronger, so that everyone does what you say and you don't have to listen to anyone."

Louise hacked slightly as she tried to choke on her tongue and erupt in hysterical laughter at the same time.

"That... humans don't work that way." she managed after a moment. "Except some barbarian tribes. Even if I was the queen, and even if I was the match of a hundred other mages, there would still be dissenters, factions I would have to placate and political games I would have to play."

"Just get rid of everyone who doesn't do what you say." Rumia advised seriously.

"That would make me a tyrant, and I don't even want to be queen!" Louise objected.

Rumia simply stared blankly, as the scent of burnt hair intensified.

"... I don't get humans." She admitted, after a minute had passed.

Louise waved Rumia down in the courtyard, just a few minutes before the appointed time.

"There's... no chance at all that I can just convince you to apologize for this, is there." She stated wearily.

"Why would I apologize? He brought food out into the night, where I was. What happened after was only to be expected." Rumia said grumpily, darkness around her intensified to block out as much of the sunlight as possible, so that she was only the barest outline of a figure inside of the floating orb.

"Just... please. Don't die." Louise requested, face twisting with a mix of emotions, mostly the dread of her greatest, even only, success simply falling from her grip. "If you think you're going to die, surrender, and I can make him stop!"

Rumia giggled.

"... 'Surrender'?"

Without a further word, she floated forward, to hover before Guiche, who wasted no time in conjuring his full complement of Valkyrie.

"So you have come." He stated simply. "... you either know something of honor, or you are more a fool than I expected."

"It's hooot..." Rumia complained.

"Tch. Vexing to the last, familiar? Don't think I'll spare you just because the light of the sun doesn't agree with you..."

"Hrm... I want to go back inside and sleep." Rumia continued. "It's too hot. It's too bright. I don't like the day. I'll... just have to finish playing quickly."

"This is not a game, familiar!"

"Is it not?" came the reply, and there were suddenly twin pinpricks of red within the orb. Then it bulged grotesquely, swelling outwards and spilling forth as it expanded, light dimming as the air cooled. The crowd of milling students, come to watch, broke out in awed, though confused mutters at the display. Louise's familiar had, at least within the bounds of the courtyard, made the day into night.

"What trickery be this..." Guiche said, eyes widening as he looked around. The light had dimmed to that of a fully-moonlit night: enough to see by, but not fantastically well.

"Come, human." Rumia declared, eyes blazing with crimson light. "Show me the power you would use to cut me down. Show me your reason for confidence, why you walk in my domain without fear. Or apologize with your flesh!"

"Apologize... Apologize! To you!" Guiche was trembling with barely contained rage now. "Valkyrie! Cut her to pieces!"

Three golems surged forth, haltingly, and it was the work of a moment for Rumia to slip around them, to pass through them even as a nagging itch at her scalp was brushed away with her disinterest in thought, and to surge into a lunge at Guiche, intending fully to punish the human for his temerity. And then the fourth Valkyrie, the one she had lost track of rose from its concealment beneath the earth, slamming an unexpected fist into her stomach, and launching her back into the gathered and waiting golems behind her.

Guiche smirked as they lashed out with their broadswords, slashing and stabbing as she passed, even as one lost its grip as the blade lodged in the familiars ribcage, and she crashed into a heap on the ground. His plan had been enacted perfectly. Flawlessly, even, despite the unexpected hindrance of low visibility. That was what came of being the son of a General, he supposed smugly, as he sniffed delicately at a rose, eyes closed with satisfaction.

A giggle reached his ears, and his eyes snapped open in disbelief.

Rumia stood there, beyond his golems, having risen from the ground to float in place, smiling widely. Without mirth. Deep rents had been carved into her flesh, through her clothes. The did not bleed, but seemed to show only a deeper darkness beneath the skin. The sword remained lodged in place, surely, surely piercing heart and lung alike... she tugged it free with two fingers, as though it were no more than a toothpick, and cast it aside without interest.

"Heee... How interesting. You've killed me once, now, sir Guiche. Better than I had expected! I might have a little fun after all~"

"Valkyrie-" Guiche began to order, only to be interrupted.

"Tooooo late, it's my turn!"

Dozens of angrily glowing red orbs, each individually larger than Rumia herself was, blasted forward towards Guiche with ominous intent.

"What." Was all he managed before bodily throwing himself out of the way, and noting that all the fingertips of one of Rumia's hands were suddenly glowing brightly. Then thin lasers fired out of them, focused at his prone position. He had a moment to roll out of the way before they bulged outwards with intense heat, searing a pit into the stone where they had focused. "What." He tried again, scrambling to his feet as best he could to hurl himself out of the oncoming paths of brightly colored giant balls of oncoming pain, still not sure what the hell was happening now.

"Run, run!" Rumia urged cheerily. "Keep dodging, sir Guiche, my barrage will huuuurt if it hits~"

"Wh-what kind of twisted magic..."

"The fun kind~" Rumia declared. "Demarcation!"

A.N.

If you frequent a certain forum, you've probably already seen these. If not, then enjoy~

Figured I'd indulge my review whoring a little and post here too, see how it went.


	46. FateScarlet Night

"Run~"

Emiya Shirou ran, seeking someplace to flee to. Somewhere to hide. Somewhere dark, and safe, though it would do no good, with the girl's spear glowing so brightly with power that it was like a mobile bonfire, banishing every trace of the night as she passed.

"Run, run, little mouse~" She called, still toying with him. "If you flee well enough... I might be inclined to spare your life. Is what I would normally say."

Somehow, without pausing to look back as he fled, he knew the girl was leering, as wings flapped and she took to the air.

"Sadly, though, the rules are that anyone who sees something they shouldn't... need to be done away with, before rumors spread. Such a shame. So, all you'll get is to live just a liiiitle longer~"

It suddenly, but rapidly, began to get brighter. Without thinking, or realizing why, Shirou threw himself to the side, and barely managed to save his life. The spear still opened a long gash along his side. He stumbled to his feet and continued running, even as it dissolved and reformed in its mistress' hands.

"... Tch." She grumbled as he made it into a building, seeming to hope to lose her somehow. "Too much structural damage can't be covered up easily, for just one rat. I guess I'll have to get my hands a little dirty~"

She floated down slowly.

Inside, Shirou breathed heavily, blood dripping from his side as he leaned heavily against the wall, exhausted from all the running he'd done and knowing he wouldn't be able to flee again before it was already too late. Unseen, the puddle of blood reached a faint crease in the ground. It glimmered, and for a moment, a carved circle glowed before settling down.

"And so." The girl said theatrically, sliding the door open as her fingernails lengthened into claws. "The hare has been run to ground, ripe for the jaws of the hound. It was a brief moment of amusement, at the very least. And now, I bid you adieu-"

"Heee~eeey~. Knock Knock~" A call answered.

"... No." The girl flatly denied, even as she ground to a stop.

"LAEVATEINN~" the new girl cheered, and the huntress was blasted away with a wave of crimson light. As were two of the walls and a large segment of the ceiling. "Later, sis!"

Red eyes turned on Shirou, and the new girl smiled widely.

"Hey... you called me. I guess that makes you the boss. Let's have lots and lots of fun, until everyone breaks, okay?"

LANCER: Remilia Scarlet. Noble Phantasm- Gungnir.

SABER: Flandre Scarlet. Noble Phantasm- Laevateinn.


	47. Bending 2

The bizarre bit of bent wood and bone hit Zuko in the back of the head, and he couldn't help but be horrified as he stumbled, mind whirling. It had passed him by. It had missed by a significant margin, and he'd thought no more of it. And then, it... it had to have _turned_ somehow, in midair, and arced back to strike again from behind. It galled him that some peasant trash in this backwater collection of huts carved from ice-blocks even had the audacity to stand against him, much less actually get any kind of hit in.

"Alright, kiddies, that's enough. Not bad, boomerang, but you forget that his prickliness is wearing a helmet." Ranma appraised, at least half-seriously, as the water tribe stripling rushed to the assault again. He casually disarmed and shut down the attempt without any significant effort or resorting to bending. "Yeah, that's right, I'm not wearing a helmet _or_ armor. Nice catch. 'Course, I don't need them, you can't hit me anyway. No hard feelings, kid, I'm just that awesome."

Zuko snorted at the sheer, casual arrogance implicit in that statement, then turned aside.

"Where is the Avatar?" He demanded simply. "Bring him forward."

"Don't think he's here any more, Prince." Ranma interrupted blandly. "... What with you mentioning Air-people colorations, and that I'm not seeing a single pale-face in the bunch."

"Yes, I _know_ that." Zuko snapped. "But they might just be hiding him away-"

"Uhuh, yeah, sure." Ranma interrupted again, disinterest palpable. "But y'know, I'm sick of the cold. Let me do the talking will you? We can get back on the boat and relax in heated rooms that much sooner. Alright..." Ranma coughed seriously before continuing. "Ahem. We-Fire-Peoples. Hunt-um Avatar. You Bring-um, we not smash-um houses."

"... Merciful Agni. You just don't have the grace to even pretend to care." Zuko said simply, stunned into near silence.

"Iiiiiiiiiiiii'llllllll _kiiiilllllllllll yyyoooooouuuuuu!_" A young Tribe woman yelled... eyes seeming to glow with provoked fury as the snow about them whipped up, dancing to her command and crashing down at Ranma.

Shit. Waterbender. Zuko had been certain that reports had indicated they'd all been wiped out from this pole, but some could have slipped through the cracks...

"All non-Benders, back on board!" He ordered snappily, even as Ranma burst out into a wild grin and a "Hell _yes_, this might actually be fun!" His scowl deepened even as the other burst into motion and he set down to guard the organized retreat of his soldiers.

The Tribals didn't seem inclined to press an attack, though, being mostly made up of old women and children, and considering how their only psuedo-warrior was already well aware that he couldn't match them all alone. It left him time to watch the other as he toyed with the Waterbender, his every remark driving her deeper and deeper into mindless fury, as he dipped and weaved casually around sprays of water and snow and piercing javelins of ice. It was really quite impressive, and seemed like her bending was almost taking complete control of her, directed through only mindless rage, to the sole purpose of _crushing_ the object of her hatred. The deeper into the anger she sank, the more dangerous she became, and even as the Tribals started to become seriously worried and evacuate themselves, Ranma simply spurred her ever more eagerly to greater and greater feats, seeming almost delighted the more she showed, as if...

No. No, that was impossible. He couldn't be thinking of trying to mimic the girls Water Bending the way he had Zuko's fire. That had been a fluke to begin, and _nobody_ could control more than their own element. Fire, and Air, and Water, and Earth, and the only being that could bring all together was the Avatar. Anyone else trying was the height of foolishness and impossibility.

And impossible as it was, it didn't stop Ranma from breaking into laughter and twisting a hand, ripping control of a torrent of water from the girl and turning it around to slam directly into her, sending the bender crashing into an icy wall. Rage broke as she gasped for breath, the wind having been soundly knocked out of her.

"Not bad." Ranma said simply, toying with threads of water before her as he had flame before Zuko. "And I really gotta thank you. This is going to be all kinds of useful for me, given things."

"Waterbender..." The girl rasped, eyes filled with disgust. "And you work... with the Fire Nation? You... traitor."

"Hey, now... you people and your _labels_. Waterbender this..." He said wryly, tossing the threads of water away as flame coiled around one arm, then dispersed. "... Firebender that. It's like you expect me to just sit tight with one set of skills and be happy with that... and that ain't happening."

"... No..." The girl said, wide-eyed. "There can't be... a second Avatar?"

"Pfft. Didn't I just say not to bother with the neat little boxes? I'm too awesome to deal with your normal rules. They don't apply." Ranma said smugly. "But hey... by all means. Get stronger. Stew in hatred. Fight me again. I think I've already squeezed all the fun I can manage from you, but who knows? You might just surprise me."

Ranma paused, then looked up and grinned, managing to pick out a not-bird shape flying overhead, circling slowly down.

"... And hey. Here comes the man of the hour." He said in true amusement. "He uses air, right? That could be neat."

xxx

AN. Quick continuation. Ranma- Combat: HIGH Social: N/A. Just how he prefers things.


	48. Bending extra

Aang found himself drifting slowly to consciousness, not entirely sure what had happened. One minute, he'd been in the middle of battle witht hat strange, unarmored Fire soldier, Katara at his side, exhausting herself rapidly from her lack of skill and control of her element but nonetheless giving it her all to help drive off the invaders, and then... then, the next moment, the man had gotten behind him, above him somehow, and he could almost have sworn that the winds themselves had been responding to the Fire soldier's call rather than his, just for a moment, before something had slammed him down into the ground... and then everything had gone black.

"Then he woke up." A cheerful voice came from the other side of the room... his cell, he realized suddenly, slightly obscured by the metal wall between them. "And he found out that his _entire_ skeleton was _missing_."

Aang's mind blanked as the woman broke out into delighted, honest laughter at the poor person's misfortune, not able to comprehend how such joy could be taken from another's pain, and he was only barely able to catch a second, uncertain and wary laugh joining hers... that Fire soldier.

"So anyway." The woman continued abruptly. "That's why Eirin kicked me out of her medical practice."

"You _are_ sure this is... safe. Right?" The man asked awkwardly.

"Oh sure, sure. I mean... well, safe enough. I'm just fiddling around with stuff a little. It's not like you'd actually die of this."

"I'm grateful you believe in my fortitude, but-"

"Here, hold this a sec. I need to move this just a..."

There was a meaty, sickening crunch, and all the blood drained from Aang's face.

"... Ow." The Fire soldier said dumbly, in the other room. "You know, that should really hurt. I'm not sure wh-_okay, yeah, there it goes, ow, ow OW, dammit Suika-_"

"Oh, don't be such a baby." The woman... Suika, answered casually, punctuated by a soft, wet thump of _something_ being tossed casually to the ground. "Ribs grow back."

"No they don't." Aang whispered hoarsely, in perfect unison with the soldiers angry yell of the same.

"... Huh. Moukou's did." Suika said with a hint of suspicion.

"Moukou's _head_ would grow back." the soldier grumped angrily. "Moukou and Kaguya are _not_ good basis for comparison!"

"Whatever. Talk's dragged on, I'm sobering up a little. Just a second." There was a sound of a cork unpopping, and Aang could almost imagine he could hear several quick swallows, followed by a sigh of happiness. "... Alright! That's better. Now... _let's play doctor~_"

Twenty minutes later, Appa slammed heavily down on the deck of the Fire Nation ship, only to be greeted by a wild-eyed Aang slamming upwards right through the deck itself in his hurry to get away, uncaring of the confiscated and secured possessions he would be leaving behind.

"Get me the heck _out of here_!"

xxx

AN.

'hola'. This is all on you. This zero-effort, non-canon-if-there's-ever-a-canon side dealie is _all_ your fault. You're welcome.


	49. Tale of Azula

An enormous block of ice floating in the sea shatters, and a young boy steps forth. Others meet him, and then they flee from a ship of steel, cutting its path through the water. A familiar face is on its deck. Familiar, and yet so distant, burned to bare recognition. This face tracks them through the world.

All of the world, through places only seen in books, for what need was there to leave the imperial capital. Yet the boy grows mightily in ability, and crushes, in the farthest northern waters, an entire fleet of ships with his own might. Countless losses.

And then another familiar face shows, and in tandem hunts both the burned one and the mighty boy. There is some measure of success there, but not in any permanent measure. Though struck down, the mighty boy lives, and the burned one slips away from a gilded cage.

Father takes a new crown. And she is given the old one. Yes... that is her, isn't it. Fire Lord... it isn't a goal she is unfamiliar with. Success is gratifying, even as Father offers a new and greater goal in the same breath, making the success minimal.

And so swiftly after, she is defeated by the burned one and a mere barbarian _peasant_. All of Father's power is stripped from him, and the burned one takes her throne.

Azula's eyes open from the dream, only to discover that she is dreaming still, a great spirit looming before her.

_You have seen._

"Zuko. _Zuko_ on my throne. That boy... the ash on the wind myth that Father set him to chasing. For the illusion of escape, and mercy, if nothing else. All that I have seen would come to pass?"

_You understand. This is the script set forth._

"Why? _Why_ show me this, spirit? The Avatar is a bridge between our world and your own, what reason could you have to give an anemy tools against him?"

_A bridge. Not the. You assume much. What reason have any, to offer aid to one, to the detriment of another?_

"You have something to gain." Azula realized, grimly.

_As do you. Unless the script set forward is pleasing to your eyes._

The spirit vanished, but its words lingered.

_It is yet to be seen, if you are suitable enough. But many pieces are already nudged into place._

"Wait. When will the Avatar emerge? When will Zuko locate him?" Azula demands, mind already whirling to make plans within plans.

_He already has._

Azula's eyes opened in truth.

xxx

It could have been a dream, of course. Azula had never been one to put too much stock in spirit-tales. But if so, it was a troublesome dream nevertheless.

Lost little lamb _Zuko_ coming out so far ahead, despite all expectations to the contrary. Less trained and capable of leading. Less powerful and less skilled in bending. Less clever, less intelligent, so _inferior_ in so many ways, despite the good fortune of being born first, and male.

Troublesome enough to keep it in mind, even if it was merely a nocturnal bout of paranoia. For such a result to come to pass, why Zuko would almost _have_ to be in the favor of the spirits. Very much in their favor, indeed. Though it would seem, not _all_ of their favor.

If only things could have been dismissed as merely a bad dream. But she's made a point of collecting certain reports and rumors. Dueling with Zhao, incidents in relatively neutral territory, ah. Zuko had been a busy boy, and that was just the start of things. And whispers, just tiny things nothing _official_, of children and a great, hairy, flying beast that could almost be mistaken for the now-extinct sky bison that Air Nomads had so favored...

Coincidences, possibly. The news that Zhao's fleet has been utterly destroyed in the seas off the Northern pole, however, is _far_ too much to be mere happenstance.

So, presume that the dream, or vision, whichever it should be called, had proven to be true to this point. Extrapolate from this that, with nothing changed, it would _continue_ to prove correct...

And the sum of the parts led to an unfortunate conclusion. Zuko: Fire Lord. Father: a pathetic wretch of a failure, with both his bending and crown removed from him. And who knows how _she_ would end, after being brought low by Zuko and some _barbarian_ working in tandem.

Just barely a likely enough story to be theoretically _possible_, at the least, where Zuko would never be capable of defeating her in single battle. But serving as a distraction while someone else got the drop on her.. yes. Yes, that might be something that he could manage, if he proved cunning enough to think of it. Beyond her expectations of him, at least. Likely the only reason it would have worked. Which meant that with advance notice it _wouldn't_.

But it wouldn't stop the little Avatar from stripping away her father's bending, and his pride, and his political power away all with the same stroke. ... It was hard to admit, but the simple thought that such a thing was possible, that he would be defeated... _humiliated_ in such a way...

It made the man seem lesser. How pathetic of him, to fall in such a fashion. How worthless. How disgusting. How could something like _that_ be the Fire Lord?

Not sentiments she voiced, of course. He was her father, after all. More importantly, it would be grounds for accusations of treason, and the mand would immediately take measures, despite the favor he held her in. No, _because_ of that regard, he would move all the more swiftly, and to more lethal response.

It was, after all, how she would respond to a son similar to Ozai, were she Fire Lord. Disappointing incompetents such as Zuko could simply be swept under the rug and ignored, if no valid reason could be given for their removal. Elements that could prove _dangerous_, however, would have to be eliminated immediately and without mercy, whether an excuse could be provided or not, and couldn't be left loose in case they might be used...

The way that Zuko might be used.

And why not use Zuko? Clearly the idiot had some sort of backing by the spirits, some mystical fountain of luck, to again and again come within a taste of his goal, even if it would forever be snatched out of his jaws before they could be clamped down. Why not turn that to her own ends?

For starters, it would be blatantly going against Father's will. But then, her eagerness to do his bidding had been slacking even before, a vision of how matters would fall out from beneath him in the end was simply the straw that broke the racoon-camel's back, in that regard.

So Father wanted Zuko to conveniently break the terms of his exile, so that there would be an excuse to be rid of him now that the fool's quest set to him might have a slim chance of success. Previously, she would have agreed with the thought, if only to tie up the loose ends and remove the only real potential barrier towards her being the heir of the Fire Lord.

But Zuko had apparently proven enough use, in the future, or in the vision or dream of it, for her to somehow slip him back into Father's good graces, if only the barest outside edges of them. She could only wish that memories of what she had seen, understanding of it all, could be _clearer_, but that much at least she had managed to interpret. There's no reason not to get started with that early.

Of course, there's only two options for this mission: success or failure. Which means she would have to _fail_, which sticks in her throat. Well, time to consider that later, she supposes.

The only real issue would be arranging things so that dear little Zuko and Uncle managed to slip through the snare she would set out for them, but have it be equally clear that it was in no way her _fault_ that they had evaded the trap.

Because he might be a fool who had failed, and without intervention, would fail, but her future would not be well served by languishing in a dungeon for the treacherous crime of going against the will of the Fire Lord.


	50. Enchanting

Had she known what would happen ahead of time, Nabiki would not have remained in bed. No, she would have booked an immediate train ticket for an impromptu week-long vacation, well away from the chaos and tumult of Nerima.

Since she had no such foreknowledge, and the day itself was ironically free of any unnatural warnings, omens, or portents, she simply went about her day as normal.

It had all come to a head with a confrontation with Mousse. From what she'd gathered from the initial bellowed rant, he had gotten ahold of some magic trinket or another with vague instructions for an unclear result, and after much deliberation had decided to keep it safely stored and not use it, being unsure what it did and having no real way to test it. Then Saotome, being himself, had later entered the scene and provoked the myopic Amazon somehow and from there...

Nabiki had found herself with two equally horrifying realizations then. First, that Ranma, who the vitriolic rant was aimed at, was not actually present. Second, that Mousse _was not wearing his glasses_. And then, as she found herself paralyzed momentarily, her brain stuck between the options of yelling at him in an attempt to pierce the fog of rage, or just giving into panicked flight, he threw it.

It flew threw the air as straight, accurate, and fast as a glowing arrow, and time seemed to slow as it approached. She could feel her body moving even as her mind began to shut down, a desperate and instinctual attempt to avoid the clear and present danger. It was too slow. If she was a martial artist of Ranma's level, then she would be fast enough. If she was even at Akane's level, she might be able to dodge. As she was, though, only practicing a little every now and again to keep in shape, it was a hopeless effort from the very beginning.

The world went white as it struck home. Then, with a sudden shift, she went from standing on solid ground to falling from a great height. She felt that with the wind rushing past her, it would be pointless to scream, as the sound would be torn away, unheard by anyone or anything. She did so, regardless.

Then there was impact and pain, as she landed badly. There had been a sickening crunch, and one of her legs was awash with burning agony. The other was horribly numb, and she couldn't quite decide which was worse. She blinked for a few moments, until her vision ceased swimming and the blackness receded, then took stock of the situation.

She was covered with muck. From an aesthetic point of view, this was horrible, but she was thankful for it. If she had landed on solid ground instead of this marshy sludge... she probably wouldn't have fared nearly so well. Slowly, she looked towards her feet, and regretted it. Her legs were a mess... broken and bent in unnatural positions, splinters of red-stained bone poking out through the leg she couldn't actually feel, making her almost glad of the lack of sensation. She made up her mind, then and there. She was going to make Mousse pay for being a moron and attacking people blind, and then she was going to make Ranma pay for being a moron and antagonizing dangerous people, and then she was going to make _Akane_ pay for not keeping her fiance on a tight enough leash... and then, she was going to find a way to get out of the madhouse that Nerima had become, for good.

Her body throbbed, reminding her that all of this was contigent on her first walking... no, unrealistic expectation on these legs, _crawling_ out of this mire, or at the very least gathering enough strength to yell for help. It might take a little while, though, because her first attempt at a deep breath was met with agony, turning it into a rasping, coughing wheeze.

No good. Her whole body was a wreck, it was just that the worst damage to her legs distracted from the rest of it. She was distracted from her thoughts, then, by a nearby squishing noise. A footfall in the muck, followed by another, moving closer to her. She looked up gratefully, to see who it was, and if they seemed inclined to be helpful.

A grinning skeleton looked right down at her, one hand clutching a long, wickedly barbed and serrated curved sword. It contemplated her for a moment, as she stared right back at it, and then the sword rose. But before she could even so much as draw in breath to try to scream again, another, larger sword swung through the skeleton, breaking it up into a number of bony pieces.

"Well, that'll do." an old man said as he stepped into her field of vision, followed shortly afterward by a hulking suit of armor, holding the blade that had shattered the skeleton and an oversized shield besides. The old man squatted by the fragments for a moment, fishing through them for something before standing back up, having apparently found what he was looking for as he tucked something away in a pouch.

"Not much call for these, but can't hurt to keep it on hand in case someone shows an interest. And well now, lass. Let's have a look at you."

"..." Nabiki replied eloquently, stunned into silence by the pile up of one thing after another until the old man prodded at her leg. She hissed in pain and spasmed involuntarily as he pulled his hand back and rubbed the mingled mud and blood between his fingers for a moment, an inscrutable look on his face, before wiping it off.

"Figured you for some sort of golem I'd not seen before, lass, falling so suddenly from the sky and all. Would be a great deal simpler if you were, in fact, but that's human blood and no mistake about it." He grumbled. "Shame. No profit in this for me, then."

He grunted and rose to his feet, before turning away.

"W-wait... You aren't just going to leave me here?"

"I'm an old man, lass, and grown out of the good-hearted follies of youth. If I take the expense of carting you to a city and being sure you recover from that spill, I'll be seeing fewer meals and tightened belt for months. And old as I am, I might well not have so many months left to me that I can afford as many lean ones as a young buck can handle." He pointed out, pragmatically.

"And you'll just leave me here to die, then?" Nabiki spat. "Or do you think someone else is just going to happen along, or that I can crawl out of this mudhole myself? I'll find a way to repay you, if you save me! But leave me to die, and I'll curse you from beyond the grave, and my death will be on your head!"

"... Bold one, you are." He said. "But we'll see, won't we. And how do you plan to repay me, before I kick the bucket? Got any useful skills, or maybe you're an Enchanting prodigy? No?"

"... I'll find a way." Nabiki said, not willing to admit that she wasn't sure what Enchanting might entail, though it sounded like it had something to do with magic.

"Hmph. We'll see, won't we. You're right, though, that at the end of my days I'm not quite so ready to bear the burden of more than what I've already brought down on my head." He said, sourly, as the hulking armor picked her up like a rag-doll, painfully jostling her broken legs and sending her vision swimming. "That Core'll make up the difference a bit. Not all, though. Crying shame as I'm too old to stomp through ruins an' dirty caves to look for more. Well, we'll get those legs set and splinted up, at least. With luck, you'll have no infections to worry about, else you might lose them. Can't rightly afford a proper high-class doctor that can fix that sort of thing, either."

"Here's hoping..." Nabiki rasped through the pain.

"Bah. Let's get you to the wagon. Can't leave it be for too long."

Another mass of armor, black and spiky, was waiting by the wagon on a dirt road that barely qualified as a goat-track, and she got loaded onto the back, alongside small heaps of bundled trade goods, and the old man set into cleaning and properly setting the bones in her legs. Not particularly gently, either, and constantly grumbling about how the medical equipment and bandages he was using was that much more that he wouldn't be able to sell, and was only a temporary measure in any case.

"... So, what's the deal with the armor?" Nabiki asked later, rasping in an effort to ignore the pain.

"My golems. Old man like me, don't expect I'll be wandering wilderness roads alone without protection, do you? Enough talent to keep going, never got the knack to keep a third. Won't find me fooling about risking my own skin fighting alongside 'em, though, like you see idiots do from time to time." He grumbled.

Nabiki could really understand sentiments like that. Better than having to fight for yourself, especially if there were a lot of things like that skeleton before wandering about.

The old man wasn't exactly forthcoming, but it seemed like there wasn't much to do on a long stretch of empty road, and through passing time, she needled a few more tidbits of information out of him.

Enchanting was a thing that a lot of people did, and handled everything from keeping plumbing going to creating 'Golems', a lot of which ended up slipping the leash through the centuries, somehow, or were carelessly abandoned. Causing a danger to travelers who went through rural areas. And if they were cut down, and left any golems they happened to have on them ownerless, then the wandering cohorts were reinforced.

Most people could handle enough Enchanting to keep a golem, if they could afford one. Few could keep two, and fewer still three. Some people would try to fight alongside their golems, though they were usually completely ineffective, and dividing their concentration meant that that they could keep fewer of the more combat-effective golems active...

She drifted off into an exhausted sleep before she learned much more than that, though.

AN. "Enchanted Arms", a decent, though not spectacular, game. I really liked the golems, but really disliked how they handled it. No matter what the situation, sending in your human characters to fight it was always a better decision than using a golem in their place.

Given that these are generally supposed to be combat weapons made so that humans don't have to fight, or something, it makes no real sense. Good idea, but poorly implemented. Shame. Especially since I didn't really like any of the actual main characters. Stoic swordsman, idiot hero, the spunky princess, and the money-hungry loli with a gun. Woo.


End file.
